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By Bonnie Bartel Latino

Columnist

In my last column on Dec. 24, 2024, I shared that my husband, Tom, came home for lunch one day at March Air Force Base and said to me with a sheepish look, “We get to go to Hawaii.” He soon admitted we weren’t moving there but would meet on Oahu during his R and R. Hearing that three-word-phrase, I instantaneously understood. My precious Tom had received orders to Vietnam. My knees buckled as I fell into his arms.
If my life as a military wife hadn’t already gotten real enough when I verbally tangled with a four-star general’s wife over what to me was a core moral issue, it certainly became real on that day in 1971.
Tom still had a few months before he was to deploy in January (1972) to Tan Son Nhut Air Base in Saigon. Located on the southern fringe of Saigon, the capital city of South Vietnam, the sprawling installation contained all four branches of the U.S. military. Just before Tom deployed we planned to take leave to visit his family in Mississippi and mine in Alabama, where our car and I would stay during the year he was away.
By that time, Capt. Latino had changed jobs from the 15th Air Force Combat Operations Center to working in staff support under Col. John T. Phillips. His Monday through Friday work schedule was much more conducive to getting everything organized before our big moves, his to Vietnam and mine to Alabama.
We also had a second dog by then. They both would stay with me in Atmore. After what is now known as the Sylmar Earthquake had so thoroughly rattled our house and psyches on February 9, 1971, recurring nightmares plagued my sleep. My great fear was that another bad ‘quake would devour our Lamb Chop. Tom knew exactly what I needed. We adopted a sweet, goofy, pekapoo puppy. We named her Daffodil, aka “Daffy.” Never has a pup’s name been better suited for its personality. “Daffy” and “Lambie” became inseparable – and my nightmares ceased.
The day before we were to leave for the Deep South, Tom received a call at home from the March AFB Personnel Office. His orders were changed from Tan Son Nuht in January to Phan Rang Air Base (still in Vietnam), but not until February. Only a week later, those orders were cancelled — and Tom received “accompanied” orders, which meant I could eventually go to Andersen Air Force Base, Guam, too. Not Vietnam! We were over-joyed! Now Tom would not leave until June. I had already found and rented a home in my parents’ neighborhood beginning in February. Now, we lost our earnest money. It was only $100, but for a young captain in 1972 that was an enormous sum. No, the USAF didn’t cover it.
Each new set of orders meant all sorts of things had to be rescheduled with our families back home and with base transportation and the moving companies. For example, we were allowed to send an extremely limited amount of household goods in HOLD- baggage, which would pack out just before we left, it would be flown to the incoming base. Hopefully, it would arrive before Tom did so he’d have everything as soon as he found off-base housing.
We were told to be judicious about what we sent in HOLD-baggage. I literally sent two of everything: Dinner plates, cups, saucers, forks, knives, and spoons. I also sent a frying pan and a Dutch oven, an ironing board, an umbrella (smart!), my hair dryer, a few changes of clothes shoes for us both – and six rolls of toilet paper. I also sent two sets of standard-size sheets. The Air Force would provide married couples and families with (used) furniture, even for off-base dwellers awaiting housing.
Tom’s extra Air Force uniforms, a few winter clothes just in case we went “home” during the assignment, the rest of our kitchen implements and small appliances, a push lawn mower, and a few other things would go by ship. Only God knew when that shipment would arrive, or for that matter, when I would. The majority of our household possessions, including our meager furniture was put into storage. Each one of those stages of “moving” happened on a different day to avoid confusion. Every time orders changed, the dates for all those shipments had to be rescheduled.
Base housing would not be immediately available. Tom would have to find temporary off-base housing before I was allowed to fly to meet him in Guam. We wouldn’t be able to ship his beloved turquoise Ford Gran Torino because American cars in 1972 were too wide for Guam’s narrow streets. We still didn’t have a lot of belongings, so for me, the various shipments were primarily aggravations. Tom was still working, so I dealt with the household business while he arranged to put the car in storage just before we left. He also learned if we took Lambie and Daffy, they would have to spend six months in quarantine. No, just no! His parents agreed to keep them both. God love ‘em!
The additional months also gave us time to enjoy some of our favorite people like Marcia and (Lt.) Bruce Weiner, who lived across the street. They were our first Jewish friends — and they gave the best parties. Everyone drank Sangria and played Charades. One of my favorite players was a bigger than life Texan with a mind so sharp and funny, his team usually won. Gerald “Jerry” Prather, always Lt. Col. Prather to us, served as Col. Phillips’ Deputy Chief of 15th Air Force Communications Division. Talk about a charismatic duo!
Tom’s assignment to March AFB would be a game changer for us both. I grew into an adult and an Air Force wife there. It also marked an immense turning point in Tom’s career that we couldn’t have imagined. His relationship with Col. John T. Phillips would become the bedrock of Tom’s career. Pat and John T. became like family for decades after that assignment. Tom’s professional relationship with Lt. Colonel Prather would later propel his career in an incomprehensible direction. This assignment morphed into an unimaginable blessing.