After they made him, they threw away the mold

Dad came home from the McCook airport tickling about a skinny 18 year old instructor pilot that worked there. Willie was his name and he hailed from Indianola. Like all instructor pilots that worked for Ben Frank, he was also a spray pilot.

Willy joined Norma Hinezly, Kenny Holcomb and more, all who flew 65 horse Piper Cubs in the annual war against wheat aphids, green bugs, weeds or anything else that they could spray or dust from the air.

Stories abound. Norma was probably about the size of Willie, wiry and slim and dressed in the style of Amelia Earhart. Dad spoke of seeing a scuffle in the office and Norma fighting and cussing just like a man, winning too. One season Norma wrecked a Cub sprayer when the tail wheel caught on a rural telephone wire, just like catching an arresting cable on an aircraft carrier. The Cub bogged down ker-thunk on its nose, broke the prop and not much else. Norma came back in ranting about the rotten telephone poles which broke over rather than breaking the wire and turning her Cub loose.

Anyway Willie disappeared into the military where via the Aviation Cadet Program he became an Air Force Pilot. His flying skills were never in question and he eventually became an instructor with a coveted slot in the Instrument Pilot Instructor School. One of the best of the best.

In 1961 I almost caught up with him at my first assignment flying KC-97 tankers for SAC at Malmstrom AFB near Great Falls, Mont. Willie had just left to fill another coveted pilot slot in the brand new KC-135, SAC's brand new first ever jet powered tanker. Actually Willie left at the specific request of the Wing Commander but that is a whole 'nother story!

The first time we met face to face was during the Vietnam War while we were both pulling temporary duty at Ban U-Tapao Royal Thai Navy Base, Thailand. The base was brand new and the aircrews had just vacated the thatch roofed hoochs to move into what resembled air-conditioned bare bone house trailers. The Officer's dining hall still had a thatched roof although it was screened in to keep the flies out and the tropical breezes flowing through. Good thing as the climate there on the Gulf of Siam was akin to New Orleans only turned up about 20 degrees as in really "hot and humid." Willie was in his element; fly every day, drink a little beer in the evening, play a few hands of poker, tell lots of stories, sleep and go fly again. Life was good in 1967.

On our way home from U-Tapao my crew got involved in a rather unique triple air-to-air refueling out over the Gulf of Tonkin. SAC at the time wasn't really sure what to do with us as for the first time ever, we the Air Force, had refueled U.S. Navy aircraft in-flight. The powers that be were treading lightly while they were making up their minds to either court martial or decorate us and we crew dogs didn't have a vote.

I had barely made it home to Oklahoma when in the mail there arrived a tape recording of the radio traffic that had taken place during our historic mission. There was no return address but I recognized Willie's voice doing aircrew conversation on the interphone. Someone on Willie's crew had rigged a tape recording (unauthorized of course) to catch his interphone conversations as well as the radio traffic within range. We could hear the Navy pilots trying to arrange a pickup of one of their own who had just gotten shot down in his F-8 a few miles east of Haiphong. The rescue helicopter was directed to return to ship but the Navy fighters and their tankers had stayed on the scene too long and were way short on fuel to make it back to their carriers. And suddenly there was this big, beautiful Air Force tanker willing to share our valuable JP-4 jet fuel to enable all seven aircraft and crews to make it back to the boat and fight again another day. Willie got it all on tape and sent it to us to share and in small part defend our decision to share our gas.

Settling in Pueblo, upon retiring from the Air Force, Willie ran an airport and civilian flight school. He also became "Willard" and we'd share stories on his occasional McCook trips to visit his sister Rosalie Weskamp. Willard Jerome Teel's noble and colorful life ended last week. I lost a friend and another of my heroes. And I am sure that the great Operations Officer in the Sky welcomed him home with a "Well Done good and faithful servant. Mission accomplished!"

That is the way I saw it.