The Anna Maria Island Sun Newspaper

Vol. 15 No. 20 - March 11, 2015

FEATURE

The heroes among us

Anna Maria Island Sun News Story

submitted

U.S. Air Force Major James Nichols climbs into
the cockpit of his F-100 Super Sabre jet fighter

All of us know a hero, or think we know a hero. The policeman shot in the line of duty trying to save a life, the firefighters of Sept. 11, 2001 or the firefighters of the West Manatee Fire District.

They are heroes to us when they make news, but they are always ready to do heroic deeds when duty calls.

But there are many living on Anna Maria Island, in Cortez and Perico, who go through their lives as unrecognized heroes, and that’s how they want it. They are the men and women who served their country in the armed forces, ready at any moment to do their duty and put themselves in harm’s way if called.

Each swore that when the fighting started, they would be there to protect the civilians from the enemy.

One such unsung hero is retired U.S. Air Force Colonel Jimmy Nichols, of Anna Maria.

He does not consider himself a hero and bristles at the thought anyone would call him a hero.

“We left the heroes over there,” he says of his Air Force days in Thailand and Vietnam, flying countless combat missions in an unpopular war.

Any one mission could have been his last, as it was for many of his fellow pilots and friends.

Growing up during the Great Depression in El Campo, Texas, as the son of a sharecropper, Nichols could have been forgiven if he didn’t have big dreams. For many kids of that era, just getting food on the table was a big dream.

But Nichols lived near a U.S. Army Air Force base where P-51 Mustang fighters were stationed during World War II.

“I remember watching those fighters and the pilots practice combat maneuvers over our farm and became fascinated with flying. I decided I wanted two things in life – to get off the farm and go to Texas A&M, and become a pilot.”

Being just another share cropper was not in his plans.

At 17 years old, Nichols entered Texas A&M University in College Station, Texas, in 1944 as a reserve officer’s training corps cadet.

Commissioned a second lieutenant in the U.S. Army Reserve upon graduation in 1948, he was told he would have to wait for active duty.

“The Army didn’t have much for flight training, just a short course at Fort Sill, Okla., in a two-man observation plane. Well, that’s not what I wanted.”

While waiting for active duty, Nichols applied for an in-service transfer to the newly created U.S. Air Force.

He entered active duty in 1949 with the army at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, but soon got orders to report to Randolph Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas, to be in the Air Force and undergo flight training.

“My desire to be a pilot was coming true, although I still had a lot of training ahead of me.”

Nichols first trained on propeller aircraft, then transitioned to the F-80 Shooting Star, the first jet fighter aircraft in the U.S. Air Force

“That was a thrill. Think of going from planes that went about 150-200 mph to a jet that could hit nearly 600 mph a few minutes after takeoff. I knew then I was in the right place.”

The Korean War began in late June 1950. Before assignment to the war, Nichols trained on the F-86, the latest aircraft in the Air Force arsenal.

Later, training at Edwards AFB in California, Nichols met the legendary Chuck Yeager, the first man to break the sound barrier. He also met a civilian pilot named Neil Armstrong, who in 1969 became the first man to walk on the moon.

When Nichols arrived in Korea in 1951, the air war was winding down. He got shot at a few times and returned fire, but aerial dog fights with North Korean Mig-15s rarely occurred.

From Korea, Nichols was sent to Japan, then to Nellis Air Force Base in Nevada, to be a test pilot for the new F-100 SuperSabre fighter.

Despite its publicized advantages, Nichols found some serious problems with the F-100, particularly in its wing and vertical stabilizer size.

On another occasion, he had just taken off when he heard an explosion and saw an engine fire.

“We were at about 10,000 feet with no engine. I basically had to glide the plane back to the landing strip, knowing that the wrong glide angle would send me straight into the desert.”

Nichols managed to make a safe landing and later got into a heated exchange with some “chair-warmer” about what he should have done. Nichols was not about to accept criticism from some guy who didn’t fly anything but a rolling chair across the floor.

He remembered another occasion while at Edwards when he took off in an F-104 Starfighter, which was the first Mach 2 (twice the speed of sound) aircraft at that time. One wing simply fell off the plane after takeoff.

After he ejected, his seat failed to separate properly, and he was sprayed with glycerin from the seat propellant.

“As I’m dropping down, my flight suit was on fire because of the glycerin, so I’m trying to put out the fire and guide the chute in for a safe landing. It was wild.”

Nichols would spend three months in the hospital as doctors worked to repair the burns to his face, arms and chest.

Sent to Thailand in 1957, Nichols helped train Thai pilots and also flew a number of classified missions over Vietnam, although there was no Vietnam War then.

Reassigned back to Air War College in the states, Nichols was promoted to full colonel and became vice-commander of a squadron of F-111 fighters.

As this was during the Cold War, Nichols knew he would have to lead his pilots – armed with nuclear bombs – in any action against the Soviets.

And the Vietnam War was still in full operation, even in 1970.

Nichols was sent to Ubon, Thailand, as vice-commander of a wing of F-4 fighters and other aircraft used in the war.

“We flew 24/7. We had 150 aircraft, mostly F-4s and F-111s, but some AC 130 gunships, and 6,215 personnel. To say we were busy is an understatement.”

Nichols quickly learned to overcome the stress of combat flying, but a few pilots couldn’t accept the dangers or duties.

The danger was that you might not come back from a mission, Nichols said. The duty was to bomb, strafe and drop napalm on the other guy.

“I lost a lot of good friends, guys who never came back from a mission. And I lost friends who had lost their nerves.”

Today, it’s called post-traumatic stress disorder and military doctors are trained to spot the condition. But 50 years ago, nothing was known or done about the disorder.

“We had some pilots who lost their nerves. It was sad and embarrassing when a friend turned in his wings. There were a lot of pilots troubled by the war and combat.”

By 1973, the war was winding down and Nichols was alerted for a desk job at the Pentagon.

For a fighter pilot, becoming a desk jockey is almost like asking a heart surgeon to fix broken toes.

Nichols learned from a friend that the Pentagon job would guarantee him a promotion to brigadier general and, eventually, major general. “But it was not a flying assignment,” Nichols said.

At the same time, he had a friend in Dunedin, Fla., who had gone into housing development after retirement from the Air Force.

“He made me a good offer, and I was faced with a very difficult decision. The Pentagon job assured me of promotion, but the bad part is that sitting behind a desk meant I would be a paper-pusher, not a pilot.”

After thinking it over for a few days and talking with his wife, Nichols called the Pentagon. After 25 years, he was taking off his uniform and retiring.

“If I couldn’t fly, I didn’t want it,” he stressed.

The decision ultimately proved to be the right one.

“The company, Hallmark Development of Florida, did very well. We built condos and rental storage garages. Those rentals are still in business today.”

Nichols remained active in civilian flying, and Hallmark had many aircraft to fly executives across North America. Nichols got plenty of flight time with Hallmark.

He stopped flying a few years ago when he could no longer pass his annual flight physical and examination.

Retirement did not mean Nichols left the Air Force behind, although he tried.

“I convinced myself I would not live in the past when I got out. I know a lot of guys who couldn’t forget Vietnam. I know plenty who drank too much after Vietnam. It was tough, but I had my family and managed to keep Vietnam behind me most of the time.

“That doesn’t mean I never think about what happened over there, and the many friends I had who didn’t make it back. I’m no hero. If there were any heroes in that war, they are the guys we left behind.”

Nichols said he was just a regular pilot who loved what he did and the Air Force was everything he wanted.

“I loved flying and being in the Air Force as a fighter pilot was a fulfilling life. I got to fly a lot of great airplanes, retired a colonel and that’s a good way to go out. If I can be remembered, it’s as this: Colonel James Nichols – fighter pilot, United States Air Force. He did his duty.”

Just one of the many unsung heroes among us.


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