The 21 Club

When the B-57s were moved from Japan to Clark AB, Philippines, the personnel’s families could not immediately accompany them so they were temporarily class B bachelors. The bachelor quarters on base were awful so they all moved off base. Initially most lived in a motel. They needed a place near their quarters to party so they rented one of the rooms as a bar. It was room 21 and the 21 Club was born. Every officer of both squadrons was members. A manager was appointed and he bought supplies and billed the members every month for their share of the expense. There was no cash involved as everything was free.

Every member painted his name on the ceiling with the smoke from a candle. When a member was shot down or crashed and was killed, his name was circled. After several months there were lots of circled names.

When the B-57s were moved from Danang to Phan Rang, we did not receive a warm welcome. Phan Rang had a fighter wing with four fighter squadrons flying F-100s. To the Hun (F-100) pilots, we were Multi Engine Bomber Pilots (MEBPs). We were treated with contempt and were the subject of insults as to our piloting ability. Needless to say, this did not go over well with us. We had been flying in North Vietnam and Laos day and night against defenses these Hun pilots had never seen. The biggest thing that had ever fired at them was maybe a 50 Cal. We were regularly fired at by 37mm, 57mm, and even 85mm. They flew only in the day time and mostly bombed trees. We flew mostly at night and bombed and strafed trucks and guns.

Several confrontations occurred at the bar in the O’Club and eventually the bar, by mutual consent, was divided in half to the Hun end and the MEBP end. There were still insults that could be heard all over the Club, some from both ends of the bar. What seemed to irritate the Hun drivers most was that many of us would show up for breakfast obviously inebriated. This was because we flew at night and did our drinking after we returned from our mission. The club was the only place to eat and after a long night we were starved. After a while, we found a sergeant who worked in the club who had previously been assigned to the B-57 outfit in Japan.

He started keeping aside some steaks and baked potatoes for the night crews. After a flight we would go to the club, which was closed at night, and he would have a charcoal fire going outside and the steaks ready to cook and we would grill our own.

Things came to a head after two serious incidents happened. The first involved the Club’s latrine facilities. This consisted of a small shack with four doors perched on the edge of the hill in the parking lot about 50 meters from the Club. Inside the doors were four cubicles with 55 gallon barrels underneath. These were burned out with diesel fuel every morning. By evening they were rather smelly. One evening one of our intrepid airmen arrived in the parking lot in a pickup truck just as two Hun pilots entered the Facilities. An evil idea lit up his brain and he eased the truck’s bumper up against the doors of the Facility and gently pushed it over the side.

A few minutes later two very angry and very smelly Hun pilots burst into the Club looking for the culprit. The MEBPs at the far end of the bar were practically rolling on the floor laughing. The dining room manager evicted the two smelly specimens as this was the dining room and they were unsanitary. The incident was soon known all over the base and everyone was laughing about it except the Hun pilots. An investigation was launched but even the investigators had a hard time keeping a straight face and the culprit was never found. As the MEBP end of the bar was at the far end against the wall, we had to walk past the Hun end every time we entered. We started holding our nose as we walked past their end and every time we passed a Hun pilot anywhere on the base. This did nothing to help the relations between the two warring parties.

The second incident occurred a short time later. The same intrepid airman, he of the diabolical mind, came into the Club one evening with a saw and proceeded to saw the bar in half. He said he did not want our end attached to the Hun end. He was promptly stopped and evicted but that was the last straw for the Officer’s Club Officer and the Wing Commander, who was also a Hun pilot. We were banned from the bar and could only go to the Club to eat.

We needed a place to relax and party and the hootches we lived in were dark and dismal dungeons with no windows. So our architects and engineers went to work and designed a suitable place. We had lots of talent, some trained at West Point. We called our sister squadron, the 13^th TBS (Redbirds), back at Clark and put in an emergency order for supplies and equipment we would need. The first thing to arrive was a rotating B-57 with a cargo box attached to the bomb door containing about 100 cases of San Miguel beer. We loaded a truck with beer and went to the supply depot and returned with a truck load of supplies. Every body pitched in and in short order we had a suitable building finished except for the vital air conditioners and refrigerators. A day later a C-54 arrived from Clark with those items plus a generator to run them. Our craftsmen fashioned a bar, shelves, tables, chairs, and lamps. They even built a seven sided poker table with a green felt top. Much use was made of Playboy centerfolds as lamp shades and decoration. A sink with running water was installed, the bar was stocked and we were in business. It was called, of course, 21 West and ran just like the original with every thing free.

It did not take long for the officers of the Aussie squadron and the 101^st Airborne to discover us and they were frequent guests. (We did not have any Hun pilots as guests.) We were also invited to visit their clubs but that was soon stopped by our Ops Officer after some pilots returned from the 101^st with sprained ankles. They had been doing parachute jumps from the rafters of the 101^st club. The Aussies were equally crazy and it was dangerous to party with them. The first time I encountered that breed, I had diverted into Ben Hoi for some reason and was going to have to spend the night. I went to the O’Club for a beer an as I walked in the bar four guys with funny accents attacked me and took my flight suit off me. They informed my that the new Base Commander, (a navigator) had decreed that no flight suits would be allowed in the Club. This on a base where almost every officer was a pilot and lived in his flight suit! Anyway, they sat me at the bar in my skivvies and gave me a beer. I noticed they all had blood running out of their hair and down their face which was why I was so panicked when they had attacked me. I asked about it and they told me that they had been betting on who could stop the over head fans above the bar with the least number of blade hits.

Not long after we had our club up and running, a Congressional delegation came over on a junket to see how the war was going. On the way they stopped at Clark and while there its leader, Senator John Tower, TX, Chairman Senate Armed Forces Committee, was captured by the 13^th TBS (The Redbirds) and entertained at the 21 Club. He evidently really enjoyed himself playing poker and drinking bourbon with his hosts. They told him about 21 West at Phan Rang. When he arrived at Phan Rang, the brass made a big deal of it and had all the pilots who had decorations that had not been awarded lined up on the ramp. Senator John dutifully went down the line pinning medals on us. He pinned on one of my three DFCs. After the award ceremony was over, the Wing Commander told Senator John that he wanted to show him some hangers and airman’s barracks. Senator John, who was short, but had a surprisingly deep and loud voice, reportedly said “Hell, I have seen enough goddamn hangers and barracks. Just take me to the 21 Club. I want to play poker and drink bourbon”. The Wing CO turned to an aide and asked what the 21 Club was and was told that a new building that just went up had a sign that said 21 West.

The Yellowbirds that were in the 21 Club were surprised when a convoy of vehicles pulled up outside and all the brass on the base followed Senator John into the club. The CO was incredulous to find such a well build and equipped building on his base that he did not know about. Senator John was given a glass of bourbon and shook hands with everyone. Soon he was seated at the poker table and the game was on. The brass stood around for a while and finally left except for one aide who stayed to take Senator John to dinner with the Wing CO. After dinner he returned to the poker game.

The next day we had a visit from some of the Wing Staff wanting to know where all the supplies came from to build and furnish the 21 Club. We pointed out that we had regular supply support from Clark AB. The air conditioners, refrigerators, and generator were of special interest and we explained that they all belonged to the 405^th Wing at Clark AB. One staff wienie said he was going to cut off our fuel supply for the generator but a few cases of San Miguel delivered to the right place worked wonders and that never happened. The O’Club Officer said we were in competition with the Club and would have to charge for drinks. We put a cigar box on the bar with some change in it in case someone came to check.

A couple of years later the Yellowbirds (8^th TBS) had a reunion in Las Vegas and Senator John Tower was our guest speaker. I was sitting in the front row and as he finished his speech he pointed to me and said: “The game starts in my room right after this. Ed you be there. You still have some of my money from 21 West.”