Episode 44 of Military Tales brings us the compelling story of George Marrett, a veteran pilot whose Vietnam War experiences shaped his life in profound ways, documented in his memoir, “Cheating Death.” Marrett, initially a test pilot flying advanced jets at Edwards Air Force Base, felt disappointment upon receiving his assignment to fly the much slower, propeller-driven A-1 Skyraider in Southeast Asia in April 1968. He saw himself as a “space cadet” flying Mach 2 jets and felt it was a “downer” to go to war in a tailwheel prop plane flying at 160 knots. A non-volunteer with two young sons, he went because he got the orders, saluting and heading off for a one-year tour.

His arrival in Vietnam, via C-130 in the rain, struck him visually with the red soil, prompting the thought, “red blood is red too,” signifying the bloody nature of the country. Initially stationed at Udorn Royal Thai Air Base, a comfortable base with amenities and concrete runways, he spent two or three months getting oriented and flying initial strike missions as a wingman. The squadron then moved to Nakhon Phanom (NKP), a starkly different base with steel planking, closer to the battlefield and the essential Jolly Green helicopter squadron needed for rescue missions. NKP had limited off-base freedom, a curfew, and felt “prison-like,” even looking like a California prison from the air due to its cleared ground and fences.

Learning to fly strike missions in the challenging triple-canopy jungle and karst terrain was difficult, demanding the ability to spot targets and accurately deliver weapons. However, after flying 188 combat missions, Marrett became intimately familiar with the terrain. His role evolved from strike wingman to a critical Search and Rescue (SAR) wingman, or “Sandy.”

Marrett recounts in vivid detail his harrowing first major SAR mission: the attempt to rescue Navy A-7 pilot Kenny Fields (Streetcar 304) in the notoriously dangerous Chapon area. What began as a mission with multiple Sandies and helicopters quickly devolved when aircraft were hit and lost. His lead, Ed Leonard (Sandy 7), was shot down and ejected, becoming a second survivor on the ground. Suddenly, Marrett found himself the only Sandy left, having never performed a rescue, describing himself as a “deer in the headlight” in the worst experience he’d ever had, with two guys on the ground and nighttime approaching.

The multi-day ordeal to rescue Kenny Fields involved 189 sorties and resulted in the loss of seven planes. On the second day, during adverse weather, his new lead’s A-1 was hit, shedding fluid and filling the cockpit with oil before the pilot ejected. Marrett witnessed the ejection and followed the plane as it crashed into the mountain, later seeing the pilot rescued from a dead tree. On the third day, despite feeling inadequate, Marrett continued flying the mission. Kenny Fields, injured and with a dying radio battery, was growing desperate after an F-4 accidentally bombed near him. The successful pickup was finally achieved by a lead named Tom, who earned the Air Force Cross, and helicopter pilot Dave Richardson, who felt divinely protected during the hover.

Though he didn’t initially meet Kenny Fields after the rescue, Marrett reconnected with him decades later at a conference, recognizing his call sign “Streetcar 304.” They formed a lasting bond, staying in touch for over 50 years, giving talks together, and supporting each other, with Fields even writing a book about the rescue. The emotional toll of the rescue extended to Fields’ family; his wife’s severe stress during the three days he was lost may have contributed to their son Todd’s health issues, affecting his development.

Marrett also shares the incredible story of Ed Leonard, his first lead who was captured and spent five years as a Prisoner of War. Leonard’s survival story is one of resilience, including hiding in a tree and being captured after a chance encounter. After his return, Leonard became a lawyer and eventually reconnected with and married a former love interest, a poignant “love story to the ages” between two people who had faced immense challenges. Marrett spoke at Leonard’s memorial service, highlighting his physical suffering from captivity and his extraordinary mindset that allowed him to use the time for self-reflection and personal transformation.

These connections led to the formation of the Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR) Society, created after Marrett, Fields, Leonard, and others involved in the rescue met to chronologically debrief the event. The society’s purpose became sharing these hostile rescue experiences with active-duty crews as a vital learning tool, a challenging but successful endeavor that highlighted the incredible camaraderie among the Sandy pilots, a bond forged in combat that lasted a lifetime, contrasting sharply with the competitive atmosphere Marrett experienced in test pilot circles.

Marrett reflects on the lessons, or lack thereof, learned from the Vietnam War, including the high cost in lives and equipment for seemingly little strategic gain, and the ongoing challenge of applying lessons learned from previous conflicts. He contrasts the American value placed on individual human life, which drives extensive SAR efforts, with the enemy’s approach, noting this difference necessitates technological advantages like smart weapons and drones. He came to understand his role as a “small cog in this big wheel,” accepting circumstances he couldn’t change and performing his duty. Despite the dangers and losses, the immense pride in their vital low-level work and the “terrific feeling” of successful rescues were deeply gratifying.

George Marrett’s story, including his post-military career as a test pilot for Hughes Aircraft, writing multiple books (including one that led to him being a technical consultant for The Aviator), and his ongoing efforts to preserve aviation history through museum work, demonstrates a life lived to the fullest, making the best of unexpected circumstances and honoring the deep, enduring bonds forged in the crucible of combat. His personal anecdotes, like putting the first copy of his fourth book in his mother’s burial vault, underscore the personal meaning woven into his professional journey.