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By Bonnie Bartel Latino

Columnist

By 1973, the handful of hardworking junior officers, non-commissioned (NCOs), officers and airmen had more than survived Linebacker II, the Egypt-Israeli War, and Apollo 17’s re-entering the earth’s atmosphere. Much of this was accomplished under the leadership of Captain Duane Leach, the interim commander of the 1958th Communications Squadron.
The 1958th also survived an IG Inspection from headquarters, United States Air Force as part of an overall inspection of all Andersen AFB organizations. On their last day there, the inspection team held an out-brief at the base theater to reveal the results. Normally a major commanded most USAF mid-sized communications squadrons. Instead, the 1958th consisted of one mid-level captain, two junior captains and two lieutenants. The importance of senior NCOs like Louisiana native SMSgt Bobby Cox can’t be underestimated. Consternation reigned inside the theater as junior officers, NCOs and Airmen alike waited together to learn the grades awarded to their sections and overall, to the squadron.
Communicators never like to settle for a satisfactory grade on anything, but particularly on this type of inspection. However, that was the overall grade for the 1958th. However, the inspection team leader, a colonel, made it clear that because of the trio of real-world events that occurred successfully under the watch of such young officers, who also allowed none of their base or flight line communications to suffer, satisfactory was a lot better than it sounded. Tom came home that night and said no one cheered, but the collective sigh of relief was palpable.
That is, until the new squadron commander, at his first unit commander’s call, soon after the inspection, informed the entire unit that they were not a satisfactory squadron and he was there to fix it. How to win friends and influence people, huh?
Every time I saw or interacted with Tom’s new commander, Maj. James (a pseudonym) always brought to mind the fictious Capt. Queeg, the erratic skipper of the destroyer-minesweeper U.S.S. Caine of The Caine Mutiny fame. Herman Wouk’s popular novel won the1951 Pulitzer Prize and was later made into a movie with Humphrey Bogart. Major James was short and neurotic. He was also self-important, arrogant, and often rocked on his heels like Queeg.
His predecessor, Capt. Leach, was his polar opposite. Always upbeat and eager to lend a hand or an ear to anyone in the squadron family, he always wore a smile that lit up his handsome face. Major James suffered by comparison. Every night Tom told me of some awful new thing the new commander had done or said to someone. No detail was too small for him to demean the actions of the people under his command.
His wife was an absolute sweetheart. With natural red hair, green eyes and a soft welcoming smile, Mrs. James was as fine a commander’s wife as her husband was deficient in all the traits of a leader. That probably particularly torqued his jaws. She knew how to entertain like a Southern lady because she was one. In the beginning, although the couple had two small children, they sometimes hosted dinner parties in their home for squadron officers and their wives. In those rare glimpses into the James’ home life and at squadron picnics on Terague Beach, I always quietly observed. I could easily imagine how controlling and belittling he must have been to his wife and young family. The thought made me queasy. I did all I could to help Mrs. James personally and within the squadron. She and I simply clicked. We never discussed her husband, of course.
James got even more unstable as the months dragged on. Everyone in the squadron seemed to feel miserable, beaten down. They were all made to feel “less than” by their own leader. Duane Leach, who had been there when the previous commander had driven his privately owned vehicle under the wing of a B-52, during night flights from Guam to Vietnam before the war ended, now had to deal with a commanding officer who obviously had a personality disorder at best. That’s my diagnosis and future years would prove me correct. After two far less than stellar commanders, Capt. Leach put in his papers for an Interservice Transfer to the U.S. Marine Corps, where he eventually achieved the rank of lieutenant colonel.
James ruined the career of one junior officer, who planned to go back to the states and go to law school. I always believed he was among the first to contact the Pacific Comm Agency. We didn’t know it at the time, but an investigation into the major’s conduct had begun. Tom only talked squadron business with me in general terms. Only recently, he told me one day James called him to the commander’s office and sternly said, “I’m considering bringing every junior officer in this squadron up for mutiny.” (Capt. Queeg, indeed.) Then in a sarcastic, gloating tone, he asked, “What do you think of that?”
“Not much, sir,” Tom replied. After a pause, the commander dismissed him, and he left the office. Those of you who know Tom Latino well, also know that he had to have been pushed beyond his limits for months to come that close to insubordination.
That’s probably exactly what James had intended.