Before the Oak Ridge Boys evening concert on General Yeager’s birthday, we greeted each of the Oak Ridge Boys and members of the band onstage while the curtain was down.
Joe Bonsall lights up the stage...Literally.
Joe joked with me about my version of the lyrics in their songs.
After a collective laugh, I said: I have to ask you a question – I know after all these years I should know the answer, a little embarrassed about that but….I just don’t….so here goes…
I’m sure Joe was wondering what this mysterious question could possibly be. Or apprehensive….what could Victoria possibly think she should know and doesn’t….the imagination ran wild, I’m sure.
I plunged in: “How do you pronounce your last name? I assume you pronounce it correctly.”
Deflation – how dull. Or relief?
Joe: BONsall.
Me: I get confused with the two “l”‘s – seems like the accent should be on the last syllable. If it were French…
Joe: It’s really European – BON-tzall
Rex jumped in: My friends always say. “Hey! How’s Joe Bonzo?” I tell them it’s BONsall and they still say Bonzo – how’s Joe Bonzo?
Joe: Yeah – lots of people say Bonzo. No matter how many times you correct them.
The two of them must have repeated Bonzo at least 10 times.
I was thinking: Uh oh. Thanks, you guys. Now I’m going to be confused and remember Bonzo, instead of…..AAAHHHHHH……Was it BONsall? Or?
Well, I’ll just refer to him as Joe (or Joey – I got permission a couple years ago). Or Dahling like Tallulah Bankhead, a famous 1920’s actress: “I call you Dahling because I cahn’t remember your name.”
When I got home, I looked it up: According to some: “Bonsall” means: “Farm Hero.”
Name is Norse-Viking & derived from the village of Bonsall, near Matloch in Derbyshire. Name moved to Wales. Pre 10th Century, translates as ‘Beorns-Halh’. ‘Beorn’ is a personal name meaning ‘Hero’ and ‘Halh’ a piece of cultivated land – a farm.
One site says: Bonzalls/Bonsalls, including my new favorite first name, Obadiah Bonsall, came to Philadelphia in 1682. Another site says: First recorded Bonsall is Thomas Bonsall in 1799 during the reign of George III, “Farmer George”.
Well. Better than Bonzo, which according to one site, means “Three fries short of a happy meal.”
Tee hee.
c. GCYI
You won’t believe it….I hardly believe it myself…but I will be 91 on Thursday!
The first time I met any of the Tuskegee airmen was on the East Coast at a military seminar. Gen Yeager was one of the speakers as was this fellow. This particular fellow had been in a controversial storm many years before. He had claimed Fighter Ace status years after World War II, claiming he had a 5th “kill” during World War II.
I don’t know who set “5” as the magic number and I don’t know the circumstances. I don’t know how many he shot down successfully. I do know that regardless of how many; people today very much appreciate the contributions of all pilots, navigators, gunmen, black, white, female, and personnel who contributed to the war effort and especially those who put themselves in harm’s way for the rest of us. I guess those who weren’t keen on the claiming it so many years later thought it put too much emphasis on how many, rather than on duty.
The effects of the controversy could be seen. This man was not terribly relaxed and while polite, not very affable when I met him. There was not the comraderie with other WWII pilots.
While the seminars were going on, I had gone to the library where they had posters of various USAF military groups that the library was getting rid of. I jumped on it.
They had only one of the Tuskegee airmen. It was very cool – very well designed. Probably the best of the bunch.
As I walked back to the housing, I started walking slowly and having a discussion with myself.
Me: I bet the Tuskegee airman here would like this.
Other Me: But I like it.
Me: It would mean more to him.
Other Me: It would mean a lot to me.
Me: He’d probably appreciate it.
Other Me: He might not. What if he just throws it away? He’s kinda stern.
Me: Then just ask him if he would like it and if not, you’d keep it.
Other Me: But I found it. I like it. Do I always have to give away everything?
Me: Well, maybe, he may not want it – but you should offer it.
Other Me: I walked all the way over to the library, found it, carried it all the way back, while he was having fun doing something, can’t I keep it?
Me: Just knock on his door.
Other Me: What if he’s mean? He wasn’t very friendly when I met him…
Me. I knocked.
The Tuskegee Airmen answered.
I smiled and said, I’m Victoria, I’m with General Yeager, you may remember me?
TA (very stern, somewhat dismissive, but curious): Yes.
Other Me to Me: See? I’m not giving it to him – Run! Run! Pick up your skirts and run! Keep the poster! – it may be awkward at dinner later as to why a grown woman knocked on a door and ran but –
Instead though I said out loud: I found this poster and thought you might like to have it and –
Well, you would have thought I had given him gold or a ticker tape parade or….kindness.
It took a little time for it to sink in. When he realized I wasn’t asking for a statement, wasn’t challenging him, wasn’t asking for an autograph, or photo; just simply giving him this poster, his eyes teared up as he stared at me, then the poster, then me.
I handed it to him. He appeared to be studying it – clearly finding a way to take a moment – looked up at me and simply whispered: “Thank you.” And smiled a beautiful, warm smile.
I of course was battling the contagious tears, and simple said, “You’re welcome!” and smiled back.
He seemed to be wondering if he should give me something in return and what it could be, so I, still smiling, removed all concerns by saying: “See ya at dinner!” as I headed down the walkway for my door.
What a gift this Tuskegee Airman gave me!
c. GCYI
A radio journalist said this to Don Imus recently: The best interview I ever had was General Chuck Yeager. He’s very engaging, interesting, down to earth in spite of quite a history.
I was just getting comfortable and said: Well, General, we have a lot in common.
General Yeager said: Son, the only thing you and I have in common is that we are on the same planet.
c. GCYI
When I enlisted in the Army Air Corps, they have you meet with an army psychologist. This was going to be fun!
I was answering his questions when he pulls out a cigarette, slowly lights it, puffs, blows the smoke in my face and asks: Do you smoke?
Me: No, Doc.
Doc, puffing, continuing to blow smoke in my face again: Have you ever smoked?
Me: No, Doc.
Pause.
Me: And I don’t like girls neither.
Outraged pause.
Doc: Get out!
c. GCYI
One weekend I was at Jackie Cochran’s in Indio, California, near Palm Springs.
President Johnson was also visiting. Jackie invited him to go for a ride around the ranch.
When they returned, Floyd Odlum, her husband, was livid: You don’t drive the President around. He has secret service and all sorts of people who need to do that!
Jackie: Well, he could have said something!
Went flying today. General Yeager put me in the front seat, him in the back. Yikes.
I followed the check list. When it came to the run-up, Gen Yeager went through the checklist by memory. I double-checked as I was PIC (pilot in command). He was right on of course.
I briefed the flight – if we lose an engine and still have runway, we’ll land on the runway. If not, we’ll find a nice spot on a road or pasture.
Gen Y: Why are you briefing me? You’re flying the airplane.
Me: If there’s an emergency, I was hoping you would fly it J
Gen Y: You are the pilot. You can handle it. Each emergency is different.
Yikes, again.
We had checked the weather (briefing) – beautiful day for flying. Right after take-off we had to lose altitude to get under the controlled airspace. Yet we still had to stay out of the inner circle.
We aren’t used to this – usually we fly in uncontrolled – don’t have to speak with anyone.
I was very conscious of the air force base nearby and its airspace. Just as I was thinking – glad there’s no wind and especially no crosswind at our destination so I should be okay – we had a hiccup, a little wind shear turbulence.
Uh….But it was a one-off
It was so lovely to fly lower than I normally do and view all the little ponds, lakes, pastures, rivers….
Gen Y: Do you see where we are?
I looked more closely. We were flying over an acquaintance’s large ranch – beautiful, large duck pond in the middle. We hadn’t been there in years and usually from a slightly different direction.
Occasionally I’d gain a little altitude and I’d hear: I wouldn’t go any higher.
I looked at the altimeter which General Yeager could not see from the back seat. I had moved about 30’ higher. So observant. I love flying with General Yeager.
Of course, Gen Yeager, even in the back seat, saw the destination long before I did: You’re on a good base leg to land.
I had seen the other airport nearby first.
I contemplated what I needed to do by omitting the downwind leg. Lost altitude.
I was doing pretty well, on final, getting low. But I had in my head what the last CFI had said and forgot to correct for it.
So I was a bit hot.
I held on till we landed but still a bit fast and a bit of a crosswind. We started heading right. I didn’t correct fast enough or with enough rudder.
Gen Yeager: Stop the skid –
I powered on and took off.
Gen Yeager: Just –
Me: I’m out of rhythm – need to re-group and go around.
Gen Yeager : O.K.
We only climbed 300’, stayed in the pattern. As we were on downwind, I thought: Hope I can do this, this time.
When I was collected and on top of it all again, I asked how to correct the skid at that point.
Gen Yeager: It got away from you.
Me: O.K. Thanks.
He didn’t need to say more – he saw that after I got behind it, I handled the situation fine and certainly fine at my level. I almost could have landed it again right then but I just needed to collect myself. A go-around was the best way for me at this time.
I set myself up again to land. And we landed nicely.
Gen Yeager: Now that’s a good landing. You did what you were supposed to. You put yourself in the attitude and held it there.
Phew.
Gen Y: Cutting the power will help.
I cut the power. Easier to roll out more smoothly that way 
on this airplane.
I had rolled out and now was short of a turn off so I added some power again to taxi.
Gen Y: Are you going to get off the runway?
Me: Yes, at E.
Pause.
Gen Y: Are you going to slow down?
Pause.
I was still on: “good landing” from GCY.
We taxied to the fuel stop. I followed the checklist and shut the plane down.
Safe and sound. It was an especially beautiful flight.
Woo hoo.
c. GCYI