How the Hell Did I Get to Udorn? An Airman’s Love Story

It was 1964, and I am a year out of Saint Wendelin High School in Pittsburgh, Pa. (The Burgh).

Having graduated in the summer of ’63, three friends and I decide to drive a ’55 Chevy to California and make the “big time.” That lasted about six weeks—no big time or even small time. We did, however, have some little kids in our apartment complex thinking we were the Beatles.

Back in the Burgh, I meet a beautiful young lady by the name of Wilma Jean (Billie Jean). Michael Jackson wrote a song about her. Billie and I fell in love. I considered myself a special guy who was punching way above his weight class.

We dated for a year; she was my steady and I was hers. We were considering engagement, with a wedding to follow.

So what does this have to do with Udorn, Thailand? Read on!

The war in Vietnam was raging, and the draft would be calling. So, in October of ’64, me and a buddy visit an Air Force recruiter and sign up under the buddy plan. Off we go “into the wild blue yonder.”

Before my enlistment, Wilma and I had a serious talk. We were deeply in love, and the upcoming separation would be hard. I told Billie that it may be best if we curtailed our love story, as I did not know what my service would demand. She cried, we both cried. Our hearts were one, and now they would be pulled apart.

She wanted no part of “curtail” (moving on) and cried some more. She insisted that “nothing can come between us.” She would wait for me and send me love letters. Absence would make her heart grow fonder; mine was already at full fondness. Her eyes cleared, and I felt a deep passion and commitment. She gave me one of her seductive smiles, and I must tell you, it could melt concrete as well as my heart.

Off I go to San Antonio (Lackland AFB) and full membership in the U.S. Air Force. Of course, Billie’s photo was in my wallet, always with me.

Through boot camp and into tech school (Amarillo AFB), the love letters became more passionate and wanting. Wilma became my sole purpose in life, and I counted heavily on her love.

Well, as it happens, about midway through tech school, I anxiously open a letter from my one-and-only. A total shock, a knockout punch to the heart, a “Dear Al” letter. How can this be? I sat there in a dazed stupor, gazing at the paper, reading it repeatedly. My heart stopped beating, or at least it felt that way. It was close to Christmas, and a “Dear Al” letter was my present.

Her writing stated that she was dating a guy from the neighborhood and she felt it necessary to “curtail” our relationship. What happened to “nothing can come between us”? Her notice was truly devastating to me. It ravaged my being and devoured my sanity. The brothers in the barracks could see my hurt and perhaps feel my pain. They tried to help, all sending me a Christmas card. That helped on the surface, but the wound was deep. I thought about going AWOL to address my lost love and her new boyfriend. Thank goodness, good sense prevailed and I stayed the course.

My first assignment was to Seymour Johnson (SJ AFB) in the Piedmont of North Carolina (Goldsboro). I never heard of the place, but once I got there, I was in total shock and awe. This was the “big time.”

The base was huge, and I came to realize it had three worthy benefits, with one particularly applicable to me.

It was a critical mission base with many high-brass positions stationed there. This meant it had the latest and greatest of everything. Anything a General wanted was included, and it all filtered down to the lowly Airman. It was a SAC base with B-52s and KC-135s at the ready, fully loaded with nukes and ready to hunt for bear…a Russian bear.

Although it was a key SAC base, I was part of an ADC unit with F-102s in defense of our heavy bombers. That meant I got to enjoy a state-of-the-art SAC base without all its regimentation.

Goldsboro, NC, was within traveling distance to the Burgh. As a result, I would hitchhike home at least once a month. Making these trips allowed me to rekindle my romance with my lost love. She still owned my heart.

This third benefit, regular monthly visits home, allowed Billie Jean and me to resurrect our passion and love for each other.

Wilma, because I was back in the picture, was in a state of confusion. Two good guys were pursuing her heart, and she needed to make a lifetime choice. She sought out the guidance of her local Catholic priest. The pastor guided her to me, “Back in My Arms Again” (The Supremes). I was her final choice. Jerry, the other guy, was displaced.

About eight months into the SJ mission, the Air Force decided to decommission my ADC unit. That ended my presence in Goldsboro and initiated a new call-to-duty at a regional radar depository (SAGE unit) at Sioux City AB in Iowa. There was nothing but miles of cornfields and, of course, Airman Boehm. I was given remote duty pay because it was out there with the crows.

Before I left for Sioux City, Billie and I, again deeply in love and committed, talked of engagement, with a wedding to follow. Once I got settled into my new assignment, I would send for Wilma and we would be together, dancing in the cornfields, while I served out my enlistment. For sure, Billie was my sole purpose in life and we were one heart again.

I was being a good boy at Sioux City. I took on the job of managing the base theatre and worked in the cornfields when able. I was putting the extra cash away for our wedding. If I wasn’t at the base theatre or in the fields, I was in the barracks writing letters to my wife-to-be. Again, being a good boy.

Well, that all changed when a fellow Airman by the name of P.J. Fuchs, from Indian Head, Maryland, was assigned to my compound. He was one cool dude with a chiseled stature and a happy-go-lucky demeanor. He said he felt sorry for me holed up in the barracks most nights and I needed to socialize more.

I was still a dedicated fiancé when PJ coaxed me into going with him to a local saloon by the name of “Eric’s” in South Sioux City. That was a very, very big mistake on my part.

Remember me mentioning “miles and miles of cornfields”? All those cornfields had farmers, and all those farmers had daughters. You see where I am going with this, right! Eric’s bar was the favorite hangout for all those farmers’ daughters. I did mention very, very big mistake, right! “Farmer John, I’m in Love With Your Daughter” (Neil Young).

Well, I became PJ’s sidekick (wingman). The girls were numerous and fun to be with. Paul Jones (PJ) had this unique ability to wiggle his ears, probably a trait he conjured up from his animal instincts. The ladies loved it, and he was extremely aware of its charming effect. I had my own defining feature that the girls were crazy about. It was a goofy laugh, very similar to the character “Horshack” from the TV series Welcome Back, Kotter.

PJ and I became quite popular with the girls. It was the mid-’60s, the decade of free love. There was one sensuous señorita who developed into a good friend. She had a nickname, “The Weather Girl.” Maria was well schooled in applying her forecast.

Maria and I liked being together, and when we were both at Eric’s, we would find each other and dance to a few songs. One of our favorites was “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” (B.J. Thomas). It was a slow song that she would turn sultry. As we danced, Maria would look at me with desire in her eyes and say, “It’s getting warm.” A few steps later, and closer together, she would somewhat hum and tell me, “It’s getting hot.” Towards the end of the song, she would put her head on my shoulder and whisper in my ear, “It’s getting steamy.” It was the middle of February! We would keep dancing in a close caress even though the music had ended.

Another favorite of ours was a quick step, “Hanky Panky” (Tommy James and the Shondells). Maria knew how to put the motion in the locomotion. Hanky Panky. Hmm!

So I put it to you: What’s a guy supposed to do? The farmers’ daughters were hard to resist and they knew it. I was a weakling.

Now summer is approaching, and I get a week of leave. I catch a bus back to the Burgh and my bride-to-be. Obviously, I am feeling guilt. I tell Wilma maybe we should hold off on the wedding till I get closer to discharge. Once again, her eyes are flooding, and I can truly feel her yearning. Being the coward that I was, I said, “Okay, okay, we will go ahead with the wedding in the fall.” Tears turned to smiles and that passionate look she was so capable of. I head back to Sioux City, and Billie goes shopping for a wedding dress.

I was feeling doubtful about myself and in a state of self-inflicted dishonor. When I got back to base, there was PJ setting up another party at Eric’s.

In the next few months, I blew through all my extra savings and was enjoying it. However, the compounding guilt was taking its toll and demanding payment.

About a week before the wedding, I make a call: “Billie, I am not coming home. There will be no wedding.” The invitations, dresses, gifts, reception hall, bridesmaids and best man (it was not PJ) were all for naught. Wilma cried hard, and I felt her tears, like tidal waves, coming through the phone. She was hysterical, and I was a despot, a demon. Her dad got on the phone and, in a stern voice (I could feel his hands around my neck), asked if I was coming home or not. I said “no” and heard a loud click.

The next day, I had to report to my commanding officer, Captain Ishmael. He was also the part-time chaplain. He told me he got a disturbing call from Billie’s mother, noting the grievous situation, and wanted to give me emergency leave. I said, “No, thank you, sir.” The Captain was visibly upset and aggravated. He did not like getting that call from my would-be mother-in-law. I could see he was highly disappointed in me. I was one of his key Airmen whom he trusted without hesitation.

A week later, the orders came down. They were shipping me out, probably for the good of the Captain, to an assignment in Southeast Asia. Udorn, Thailand, would be my new duty station, thousands of miles away. No phone calls there!

I was told that a Lieutenant was rotating back to the world and selected Sioux City as his choice assignment. They had to give up a good Airman in return; a body for a body. I was only a Sergeant and did not buy into that story. I thought, what a bunch of bull. Anyhow, there was no option. I would be trading cornfields for rice paddies.

All the farmers’ daughters wanted to write to me, send me their love. I just left without notice, with an empty heart and no forwarding address. I was detached and sick to my stomach. “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry.”

In two weeks, I was in Thailand, bewildered and unsure.

Udorn! How in the hell did I get here? I’m pretty sure the Captain had something to do with it.

Epilog!

Hope you enjoyed this slice of life in an Airman’s four-year journey. Love and loss, joy and sadness, repair and despair, passion and pain, devotion and deception. They are all part of the human experience.

There are some positives associated with this life “love story.”

Billie went back to Jerry, the other guy in the triangle. I knew of Jerry, and he was a good kid. They got married, raised a family, and are living happily ever after. I am at least thankful for that. I try to keep them in my prayers.

In a twist of fate, two years after my Air Force departure, I met a beautiful young lady at a Halloween party. Wouldn’t you know it, she was dressed as a scarecrow (flashback to the cornfields). ☺ She became my forever love and sweetheart for eternity. Dolly and I will celebrate 53 years of love and togetherness this spring. I like to say that I have no luck at all because I used it all up when I met my Doll.

After an initial shock, I fully engaged the combat support mission at Udorn RTAFB. I was given a charge two echelons higher than my grade and embraced it. My F-4 pilots, A-1Es, and Jolly Greens were/are my heroes. The war effort brought a profound commitment. If we lost a mission because of parts, we most likely would lose brothers in the jungle. The Air Force awarded me the Air Force Commendation Medal for my efforts.

I must mention that there are many lovely ladies in Thailand. I grew close to a few. They could have easily captured my heart; a lesson I did not want to repeat at the time.

Oh! By the way, I did get to spend one night in Bangkok, and it did make a hard man humble. “One Night in Bangkok” (Murray Head).

What happened to PJ? Who knows! Perhaps one of those Sioux City sweeties finally corralled him and he is still working the cornfields. ☺

Blue Skies Always,

Airman Boehm