Dan Heller 
On 18 June 1970 the Air Force lost an F-4E from Da Nang (421 TFS, 366 TFW) crewed by MAJOR Harry “Hoss” McLAMB and Major Carl W. DRAKE. The Phantom was downed in Cambodia while strafing a truck. Both warriors remain missing and unacccounted fifty years later…
As readers know, I am a regular visitor to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Fund WALL of FACES to peruse the remembrances of the warriors of Rolling Thunder who did not come home to resume a life in the land of the free and home of the brave… Pilot Major Harry L. “Hoss” McLAMB and GIB WSO Major Carl DRAKE disappeared into the jungle in Cambodia after executing a strafing run on 18 June 1970. Among those McLAMB left behind are a daughter, “Susie Q.” She misses her father. Her heartfelt remembrances left at the VVMF Wall of Faces…
“DADDY’S BABY GIRL… Daddy, you were gone before my memories began, yet I love you with such depth. So much of my inspiration is from what I know of your character from the storytelling of others. The strength and intimacy of your presence when we met that day at The Wall in DC was such a gift. A personal memory just for us. I wish I had known you. I hope who I am would please you. I love you even beyond the horizon, and my eyes reflect your sky blue joy. In Jesus’ love, Your Suzie Q”…
“THE STEAMER TRUNK,” posted by Suzann on 2 May 2003…
“We breathe in the story, gasp at the fresh birth of old news.
Precious artifacts vie to star in spoken tales.
We have found Daddy’s pipes.
Line and curve rest in eager, gentle hands,
Cradled, as the wood warms becoming an extension in me.
I hear my own heartbeat. I have forgotten to breathe.
We each raise a pipe, cupped to our red faces.
We inhale the intoxicating essence of Daddy’s life.
It is not a futile attempt to know him.
He is overpoweringly near while we pretend to smoke now.
Daddy is strong and charming, laughing with endearment at us
For choosing the most useless of his pipes as treasure.
They are the most worn of the lot. Kissed the most by him.
We look strangely content, with the love stored in a bottomless trunk.
I squirrel away Dad-heirlooms and hear him chuckle at my choices.
I have found north. I have imbibed heady, ancient smoke.
I have touched; felt his fingerprints impress my life.
I climb into the orange flight suit, warm and bright.
Daddy holds me and I am playfully held.”
Suzanne McLamb, 15 January 1999
