The flight from Midway Island to NAS Barbers Point, Hawaii was uneventful.  Again, like most of the guys, I slept most of the way.  Barbers Point is located on the south western corner of the island of Oahu, about 15 miles from downtown Honolulu.  The base was closed in 1999, but in 1970 it was home to all manner of squadrons: helicopter, patrol, anti-submarine, and attack, as well as well as 7th Fleet Tactical Support Squadron VR-21.

 

We were as happy to be in Hawaii as the crew.  For them it meant getting home to their families, for us it mean seeing the sights.  After we stowed our gear, we donned into civilian clothes and became tourists.  The next day, we all mustered back at flight operations for the final leg of our trip to NAS North Island, San Diego, California.  The aircraft was sitting on the ramp with its cargo door open.  We lined up for the crewman with the passenger manifest on his clipboard and prepared to board.  Meanwhile, the pilots and flight engineer were turning up the engines on the right side (the side away from us) of the plane.  Suddenly there was a BANG followed by a belch of smoke, followed by a column of oil that splattered all over the hardstand.  The crewman with the clipboard looked over his shoulder, surveyed the scene, and turned to us all with an expressionless face: "Darn.  We blew an engine.  You folks will have to come back tomorrow after we change this one."  Well, that got everyone's attention.  So we all adjourned for some more sightseeing and adult beverages. 

 

The next day went without a hitch.  We were mustered and loaded onto the same plane that blew an engine the day previously.  All four engines ran-up just fine: cylinder head temperatures were fine, oil pressure was fine, everything checked out OK.  Without further delay we were off for North Island.  The last leg of the flight seemed to pass very quickly.  Everyone was anxious to get home.  The married guys were impatient to get home to their wives, and those not similarly encumbered, were ready get personal stuff done, move back into their barracks or apartments, and to party. 

 

We touched down at NAS North Island on the morning of 5 December 1970.  We were home!  I managed to get a ride back to our base at Coronado (about 2.5 miles from the air station), where I dropped off my records and wandered over to the armory.  I was greeted by some familiar faces.  I soon managed to get a ride to Chula Vista to pickup my car in that was in storage.  The car started right up after its six and a half month hibernation and I paid the storage fee.  The next stop was my landlord to pickup the keys to my apartment.  My apartment was over the garage of the house I'd lived in before I deployed.  Since I only had two months left on my active duty commitment when I returned to the States, my landlord allowed me to live in the apartment without a lease and pay rent month-to-month.  By late afternoon, I had gotten settled-in at my new address.  The next order of business was to get some groceries from the Safeway that was conveniently located about a half block away.  After all the necessities were in place, it was early evening and it was time to check out our local watering hole on Sports Arena Boulevard.  When I got there, a few of our people had preceded me and the night had just started to get going.

 

The morning after the night before was ushered in with a BANG!  About 0730, I was rudely awakened by someone's idea of a practical joke: an M80 firecracker in the backyard.  I bailed out of bed and was scrambling for my helmet, flak jacket, and grease gun (M3A1 submachine gun) before I realized that I didn't need to worry about it any more.  Welcome home!