RHIP (Episode One)

Rank Has Its Privileges (R.H.I.P) is not just a term used in the military. Even in the civilian sector, as we progress up the career ladder, we receive ever more perks. Not that the building janitor is less a person than the C.E.O., but, usually, the outward signs of his achievement are more apparent. The CEO or bank president or general could well be a lying cheat and the janitor a saintly person, or vice versa. Unfortunately, in today’s world, success is measured by the wealth and power a person possesses. We feel more comfortable if we can pigeon hole our neighbor, or the stranger we meet at the airport, if we know what they do for a living, without really knowing them as a person at all.

I recall the two European women on a flight to visit the United States. They did not know they were being listened to and their conversation went something like this. “In America, it doesn’t matter what kind of a person you are, just as long as you make lots of money.” Now in our heads, when we think about it, we know that isn’t so, but in our hearts, it may be a more realistic perception than we realize. We are all aware of celebrities who make a great deal of money but their personal lives are a wreck and yet we buy in on the belief that money means success, most of the time. We also know of many wealthy people that are sterling examples of good and right, but wealth does not necessarily guarantee character and integrity.

The military plays the same game to a degree. Obviously the general makes much more money than the private, but relatively speaking, when you consider the power he or she wields, they make far less money than the upper management position in the civilian world. The military has to compensate, somehow, for this disparity, so they add perks and privileges to make up the difference. Still, all the military services do not hold the same power when compared with each other.

A colonel in the Army, for instance, may have considerable clout, if he commands a forward combat unit. That same army colonel (O-6) (Officer-6th rank) may not command near as much respect, although he may be paid the same, if he were in command of, let’s say, base or post recreation. The same holds true of the Navy, Air Force and Marine Corps, to lesser and greater degrees.

I remember listening, with the rest of my Air Force squadron, to our O-6 squadron commander, at the base theater building. He was addressing us from a lectern on the stage, concerning a new policy and asked if there were any questions. It went something like this: “Yes, Carl, (an O-3) you had a question?” Then the O-3 (called Captain in the Air Force) responded with, “Yeah, Tom, what about so and so?” To which the Colonel said, “Carl, we’re not on the golf course now, it’s either Colonel or Sir.” “Sorry, Sir,” was the reply. That sort of thing would almost never happen in, let’s say the Marine Corps. The junior would have been calling the senior, “Sir,” on the golf course while both of them were in civilian clothes. Their job requires complete discipline.
General Pershing once said, “In the military scheme of things, a superior, if he’s a gentleman, never thinks of it and a subordinate, if he’s a gentlemen, never forgets it.” That statement sounds arrogant and egocentric; nonetheless it is required to maintain control of a group of men and women thrown together from all backgrounds.

The Navy is very similar in this regard, except an O-6 in the Navy is known as a Captain. A general in the Navy is known as an admiral. Tradition and missions make for many other differences as well, but somehow the different military services manage to get along, usually. To an outsider, this whole stilted arrangement seems ludicrous, but the civilian arrangement seldom requires instant obedience in a life or death situation.

The reason for this background information will become apparent soon. Many churches in the U.S. today have paid clergy. A pastor or reverend or priest is paid to help in the spiritual welfare of his flock. In the Mormon Church, the clergy is taken from the congregation. It is a layman’s church. No one is paid, save spiritually; it is made up of all volunteers under the Priesthood of God. This is patterned after the Church that was organized when the Savior was on the earth. Lay leaders preached the gospel, looked after the sick, organized meetings and so forth.


This concept is unique and gives members ownership in the Church to which they belong. Now…what happens when Mormon Colonels, Sergeants, Privates, Ensigns, Specialists, Lance Corporals and all the many ranks of all the armed services are put together and attend Sunday meetings in locations all over the world, with and without their families? It is a fantastic experience, with few parallels, for learning the roles of other military members, working together, regardless of rank, all brothers and sisters in the Gospel of Jesus Christ. That leads us to the story that follows in Episode Two. Again, it is fiction, based on a true story.

RHIP (Episode Two)

Our Vietnam Church branch or congregation didn’t include any families; after all, this was 1967, a combat zone and an unaccompanied tour at Phan Rang Air Base. We were located on the east coast of Vietnam and our ward was looking forward to heading southwest to Saigon for a religious conference. Our Branch President, SSgt John Smith (E-5) (Enlisted grade-5th rank) had made the arrangements and we were pretty excited about getting off the base for a two day meeting with a spiritual leader from Salt Lake City (called a general authority).

Authorization orders were cut and we left on a Tuesday morning, aboard a C-130 transport. Included in the trip was first, SSgt Smith, second, our Elder’s Quorum President, Marine Colonel Fred Johnson,(O-6) third, our branch clerk, Marine Major Sam Steel, (O-4), Fourth, the branch president’s 1st counselor, or assistant, Army Specialist (E-4) Paul Leteer, Fifth, his 2nd counselor, Chief Master Sergeant Harvey Garbett (E-9),Sixth, Chief Petty Officer, (E-7) Bill Evans, District President and Seventh, myself, Technical Sergeant (E-6) Jim Bradley, Sunday School Teacher. There were several others that would have liked to have gone along, but duty assignments kept them from attending.

The air was heavy with humidity as we lugged our bags and the heat was oppressive. We all got on board the cargo, turboprop, aircraft, and made a uncommon site. All of us were dressed in the uniform of our service. We represented different ranks of different services but we were traveling together. As we got into our aircraft side seats, the loadmaster looked us over, and said to Colonel Johnson. “Sir, you’ve got an unusual escort today.” “We’re riding together to a conference, but they’re not escorting me,” Col. Johnson replied. “OK Sir, must be R&R (Rest & Relaxation) then?” “Something like that,” was the Colonel’s reply. The engines began to start and noise became so deafening that further conversation became impossible. Earplugs were distributed and we each sank into our own thoughts for the 150 mile or so trip. It wasn’t long before the constant rumbling of the engines put me to sleep.

I was suddenly awakened by an out of the ordinary shaking and jerking noise. “Number four engine quit,” yelled the loadmaster. “We’re trying to make it to Bien Hoa Air Base about 20 or 30 miles this side of Saigon with the other three engines and have declared an in flight emergency. Might have been an engine malfunction, might have been enemy ground fire!” he screamed. He was sweating heavily as we began to lose altitude. “Might be a fuel problem; the pilot has had to shut down the symmetrical engine. With two engines out and with the passenger and cargo load we’re carrying, we may have to find an emergency landing place before we get to Bien Hoa Air Base!”

We began to go into a steep descent. Again the loadmaster was shouting, “Prepare yourself for a crash landing! We’re looking for a road, a farmer’s field, anything out of this jungle.” Down, down we went. Fire was now trailing from both # one and # four engines. The C-130 was built to land on short landing strips in the middle of nowhere and that’s where we were headed. We could see a rice paddy up ahead, lined with jungle. Suddenly we were skidding the ground, and had dipped into the rice field, but by the time we got down low enough the brush was upon us and before we could get completely stopped, the jungle trees had rammed the flight deck where the pilot and co-pilot and engineer were seated. They were killed almost immediately.

We finally came to a stop and for a moment the noise of the engines ceased. Suddenly, the loadmaster was yelling at once more. “Out!! Out!! The outboard engines are still on fire! Out before the whole plane goes with it. We undid our seat belts and scampered for our lives through the mud and got a couple of hundred yards from the aircraft when it finally exploded in a ball of flames. We sat there, looking at wreck and realized what grave danger we were in.

Finally the loadmaster, an E-6, spoke again, but this time, in a very hushed tone. “So now what do we do?” Not a moment later, Bill Evans spoke, “We pray and we survive.” “What? Who are you?” the loadmaster asked. “I’m the guy offering the prayer,” Brother Evans said. He then dropped to his knees, along with the other members of the branch and offered a prayer for those who had died, and those living and healthy enough to walk, petitioning All Mighty God for help in staying out of the enemies hands and reaching safety. When the prayer was over, the loadmaster, who was still standing looked at the group and said, “Who are you guys anyway?”

Bill again answered, “We are members of a Mormon Church group and we need to get as far away from here as quickly as possible. No doubt the crash was seen by many and this place will be swarming with enemy soldiers very soon. I count five canteens of water between us. We have got to ration it carefully. Brother Johnson and Brother Steel both have knives and 45 automatic side holsters. Let’s not use them unless completely necessary. Brother Steel, which way to Bien Hoa and about how far and can we make it before nightfall?” “Almost due west and I figure about ten miles and if we hurry, we can make it,” the major said. “Do you have your compass, Brother Steel?” I do Brother Evans.” Then please lead the way; we can regroup by that underbrush over there.” Without further discussion, the Church group, plus one confused loadmaster, ran for the underbrush in ankle deep mud.


Panting hard, they finally reached the outskirts of the jungle and looked around to see if they were being followed. No sign of anyone yet. They realized that they were leaving an obvious trail of the way they came, by their muddy tracks. They spoke in hushed tones and used hand signals where possible, so as not to attract company. Not everyone was in the excellent physical shape of the Major, so after about a mile of quick walking, they stopped to rest.

“Why…pant…pant…isn’t the Colonel leading,” the loadmaster said, “He’s the ranking man? “Why don’t you ask him?” The Colonel did not wait to be asked. “This is a Church trip, so we are following Priesthood order. Father in Heaven could have picked me as Priesthood Leader and Brother Evans as a follower but he did not in this instance. The ways of man are not his ways. The Major has spent countless hours in the field. He is a combat veteran, as I am, but my job today, in the military, is primarily a staff officer. Besides, Brother Evans has asked him to lead out,” the Colonel continued.

“As we were going through the jungle, I was thinking how blessed we are to have the group we have. Brother Evans in a Navy Corpsman, Brother Leteer is a Vietnamese linguist, Brother Smith teaches Karate and is an expert in hand to hand combat, but more than that, we all hold God’s Priesthood and He is watching over us. We may well live to reach Bien Hoa safely if God wills, but he expects us to do our part and now we’ve talked long enough.”

The Major took the cue and off they went again for about another mile when they spotted a half ring of N.V.A. (North Vietnamese Army) regulars approaching their position. “We need to quietly flank their position; no conversation…none.” As they began to flank the NVA, they spotted a stream and followed in behind the major in walking down the water to avoid being tracked. The NVA were not fools; they were expert trackers and professional soldiers. Only divine providence could save them, but they had to do all they could, regardless.

They had gone down the stream for about another mile, when they could hear the voices of someone approaching. “What are they saying?” the Major asked Brother Leteer. “They think they’ve passed us and their retracing their steps,” Brother Leteer replied.
Let’s keep moving,” the Major whispered. After a few more steps it began to rain, first softly and then fiercely. The wind began to seriously blow, thunder and lightning followed. It wasn’t long before their tracks had been completely erased and the weather made the perfect environment to avoid capture. Taking advantage of the situation, they began to head due west once more and before long they could see the perimeter fence of Bien Hoa as the rain continued to pour down.

It began to grow very dark and they could see the lights of the flight line begin to shine. A sandbag gate, with a sentry in a poncho, looked at them warily. “Who goes there?” he said. “Just a few rain soaked, hungry travelers. Got any idea if the chow hall is still open?” the Major said. “Yes, Sir,” said the sentry when he could see his rank insignia. At which point they all fell to their knees, even the loadmaster, in front of the surprised guard and offered their thanks to a loving God.