The push

Today I'd like to tell you a story about war, and about the things we do to save other people. I know most of us are sick to death of hearing about war right now, but today -- March 10 -- is an important holiday in our family, in part because of a different war that happened a long time ago.

You see, on this day in 1967, four very young men got into two very fast planes to complete a dangerous wartime mission: a bombing run of an enemy steel mill in North Vietnam. But someone tipped off the North Vietnamese that they were coming, and as a result both their planes were heavily shot up with anti-aircraft fire. Both were leaking a lot of fuel. One of the pilots, Earl Aman, soon realized that he wouldn't have enough fuel to get back to base, and that he and his weapons system officer (aka the GIB, or "guy in back") would have to eject over enemy territory.

This state of affairs didn't sit well with the pilot of the other plane, a guy named Bob Pardo. Bob's plane was leaking fuel too, but not as much as Earl's. And Bob refused to leave anyone behind. He thought fast and came up with a crazy idea.

"Don't eject just yet," he told Earl. "I'm going to try to push you."

The F-4 Phantoms they were flying were originally Navy jets, so they had tailhooks to help them land on aircraft carriers. And after trying unsuccessfully to push Earl's Phantom using the drag chute in back, Bob had Earl lower the plane's tailhook. He flew up carefully behind the plane and just kissed his windscreen against the heavy tailhook, and somehow, even with turbulence and slipping and a windscreen that kept cracking every time they came in contact, managed to push the other plane far enough that they made it to Laotian airspace -- closer to safety. With barely two minutes of flying time left, all four men ejected from their planes.

One of those men had his back damaged by the ejection seat, and his parachute got caught in the trees as he came down, so he was in a lot of pain. But there was no time to rest, because once he got free and was on the ground, he heard the shouts of some local villagers looking for him. They shot at him a few times, which suggested to him that they weren't friendly, so he started running (as well as he could with a damaged back). He ran for a long time, but eventually his strength gave out. He leaned up against a tree, gasping for breath, and wondered how bad it would be if they caught him and put him in a POW camp.

And then a thought came vividly to his mind. He thought of his new son, who had just been born three months earlier. He thought, If I'm killed or captured, I'll never get to see my little boy. He'll have to grow up without a father. And so, leaning against a tree in the middle of the Laotian wilderness, he prayed. He prayed for help and strength and the ability to evade the unfriendly people who were looking for him. He prayed to be able to see his son. And somehow, he found the strength to keep running. Not long after that, he and the other pilots were picked up by rescue helicopters and brought safely back to base.

Now, why do I tell you this story? Two reasons. First, our family celebrates what we call "Pardo's Pushday" because if Bob Pardo hadn't decided to give that other plane a push, there's a good likelihood we wouldn't be a family. See, Earl Aman's "guy in back," the man who leaned against a tree and prayed for strength, who had never seen his new son, was my father-in-law. The little boy whom he'd never seen was my husband, the intrepid Captain Midnight. And if Dad hadn't been rescued, he certainly would have been either imprisoned or killed. My husband would have grown up without a father. He would never have had a younger brother. Had the circumstances of our lives changed only a little, CM and I might never have met and married.

Here's the other, more important reason. Most of us aren't going to use our incredible flying skills to push a damaged plane out of enemy airspace. But the things we do -- the little pushes of encouragement we give people -- ripple outward in space and time and touch others in ways we couldn't possibly imagine. Because Bob Pardo saved those three men, they and their families would go on to influence so many other lives in so many countries. Likewise, because one of us puts a jar of peanut butter or a few cans of tuna into a Little Free Pantry, someone else might be able to make ends meet until payday comes and won't be kicked out for non-payment of rent. Because one of us donates money to a charitable organization dedicated to helping refugees, a family fleeing Ukraine or Somalia will have a hot meal and a place to sleep tonight. Most of us will never really understand the full impact of the small things we do to help push people to safety -- but it's important to do those things, to send love and help out into the dark, with the faith that they will make a difference for good in the world.

So, happy Pardo's Pushday. It’s traditional to have a donut (whatever flavor you like best) and toast Bob Pardo with it.

(Thanks for the push, Bob.)