My Breakfast with the Champ: Muhammad Ali

It must have been December 7, 1970, because that was when Muhammad Ali fought Oscar “Ringo” Bonavena, at New York City’s Madison Square Garden. I was flying missions in Cambodia that day. The frag area was northwest of Pleiku, over the Ho Chi Minh Trail. We had departed Cam Ranh Bay at 04:45 to be over the target area at 05:55 (the mission was called “The Triple Nickle”). We arrived at the TACAN initial point, the 306 degree radial for 55 nm off TACAN Channel 53 (Pleiku), on time. We were working electronic counter-warfare targets in Cambodia, near the infamous TBA (Tri Border Area), where Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia meet.

With a 12 hour time difference, I would assume that Ali and Bonavena were putting on their war faces for the night fight at the Garden as we lifted off from Cam Ranh Bay before dawn. It is also probably safe to assume that both boxers were a little nervous going into their big fight. I know that my crew and I were nervous as hell going into the fight over the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Per our frag order, we came off the target in time to touch down at Pleiku at 10:00 am. The plan was to park in a protective revetment, re-fuel, and stay with the aircraft (which was loaded with top secret crypto gear) until our next mission into Cambodia started four hours later.

We taxied in, and were directed to a steel revetment at the base of the control tower. A tug waited for us, and positioned us in the revetment after the engines were shut down. As the engine noises ceased, I started to hear strange sounds coming from the control tower. Doing my post-flight walk-around inspection of the airplane, I realized the loud sound coming from the tower was a radio broadcast of a prize fight. AFVN Radio (Armed Forces Vietnam Radio, later of “Good Morning, Vietnam!” fame) was airing the Ali-Bonavena fight (and I still don’t know if it was live, or with a slight time delay).

We spread poncho liners out under and on the wings, broke out the box lunches and sodas, and had a tarmac picnic while listening to a fight half way around the world. If that sounds strange – and it was – stranger things were just a few fight rounds away. Ali had boasted that Bonavena was “Mine in Nine,” but I seem to recall that the fight went to 15 rounds (Ali won with a TKO). But another knockout was in our cards, in round five (IIRC), and we would not hear the end of the fight in Madison Square Garden.

The Pleiku Air Base control tower was built on pilings, and about 50 feet tall. With its catwalk around the tower cab, it looked like a classic US Forest Service L-4 fire lookout tower. There were four PA loudspeakers, one on each corner of the control tower. From these speakers the fight in NYC blared, at about 90+ decibels. Of interest too: the perimeter wire was not far at all from the control tower, and the perimeter guard towers were only manned at night.

Now, the Viet Cong (VC), about whom Ali famously said, “I ain't got no quarrel with them Vietcong,” generally worked nights, and – perhaps – slept during the day. I guess after five rounds of this strange 90+ dB noise coming from the AF control tower, several VC just had enough. They emerged from their spider holes just beyond the perimeter, and opened fire on the control tower with B-40 rockets.

I was on my poncho liner catching some rays when the first little finned rocket whooshed overhead and struck the tower. Followed quickly by at least a half dozen more. All scored direct hits. Left jabs. Shrapnel and glass rained down on us and on the aircraft. The tower staff evacuated down the steps (miraculously, no injuries to anyone). The tower was heavily damaged, and the prize fight was over, for us. One PA loudspeaker was smoking, and all four were silent.

Naturally, we went into defensive positions around our aircraft. But it was over before it even got started good. The VC disappeared, and US Army helicopter gunships and arty pulverized the already barren stretch just beyond the wire.

Almost three decades later, I had a chance to tell Muhammad Ali this story. It was over breakfast at the Ambassador West Hotel in downtown Chicago. It was in my airline pilot days, and our crew had a long layover in Chicago. One of the flight attendants was Ali’s niece (her mother was Ali’s sister). I had flown with Ali’s niece numerous times (we were both DCA based), and I had told her the story about the VC stopping the fight at Pleiku. She loved the story, and thought her uncle would really get a kick out of it.

So Muhammad Ali and his sister came to the hotel lobby in the morning, a couple of hours before our limo departure time for O’Hare Airport. I went down for breakfast, and was asked to join the three of them (I was in my airline uniform). Ali was soft spoken and engaging. We chatted a while, and when he got me really comfortable, I told him my VC story (I think his niece had told him about the story, and I think he was eager to hear it from me).

Well, he loved the story and he coaxed additional details from me. He made it fun to tell the story, and we both relished its absurdities. I ended by saying, ”Champ, you said ‘I ain’t got no quarrel with no Vietcong,’ but I think on that big fight night in New York City, the VC in Pleiku had a quarrel with you. The VC scored a knockout in round five.”

DemoTex
Wilderness of Rocks
Arizona
June 4, 2016