) 1981 Det-C Trans/Pac0720 05 June 1981 To 1420 14 June 1981 By Marc "Devil Dog Of The Web" Iseli / Updated Dec. 2025 My first Trans/Pac, and to this day, I still don’t know if I volunteered or just got voluntold. Either way, nobody bothered to mention we’d be crammed into a Lockheed C-130 Hercules, no seats, no heat, just a flying icebox stuffed with aluminum cases and enough gear to keep the birds running. The second that cargo ramp slammed shut at El Toro, reality set in: we were officially outbound, halfway across the planet, and my life as a Marine was about to get a whole lot more interesting. We jammed foam earplugs in because the engines never shut up, and the only view out those tiny portholes was endless blue ocean. Our job? Beat the four RF-4B Phantoms RF116 153092, RF115 153110, RF117 153103, RF120 153108, across the Pacific, island-hopping our way to Iwakuni, Japan. Plane captains for this FUBAR mission: Ken Franco, Mike Matelski, and yours truly. First stop: MCAS Kaneohe Bay, Hawaii. We land, and right away, one of the Phantoms throws a tantrum and has to limp back to El Toro. Not once, but twice. So, we’re stuck in paradise for a week, forced to endure beaches, palm trees, and zero accountability. Real hardship, right? Franco and I grabbed a rental and circled the island like a couple of lost boots. Hit Pearl Harbor, paid respects at the USS Arizona, did the Waikiki shuffle, and gave blending in with the tourists our best shot, but good luck pulling that off when you’re rocking a high-and-tight that screams 'government issue. Might as well have worn a neon sign that said 'Marine on deck.' I even had my first taste of actual pineapple, not the canned chow hall stuff, but the real deal. Sweet enough to make you forget you’re technically on the clock. Next up: Wake Island. If you ever wanted to know what isolation feels like, this is it. Perfect for a WWII nerd like me bunkers everywhere, rusted Japanese relics scattered along the sand, and not a Starbucks in sight. After poking around like a kid in a candy store, we finally got back on the Herc and made the last push to MCAS Iwakuni. After hours of freezing my six on steel boxes and listening to those engines scream, touching down felt like winning the lottery. Not a bad way to rack up some sea stories. We finally caught up with the Phantoms and the next day punched out for Agana, Guam, Andersen Air Force Base, where apparently 'America’s Day Really Begins.' I bought the T-shirt, because of course I did, and yes, I still have it. We spent a day pretending to be the Air Force, then saddled up for the last leg to MCAS Iwakuni. Landed at 0805 on 14 June 1981. Ramp drops, and right away, two things hit us: the air was actually breathable after Guam, and the mountains made clear we weren’t in Kansas anymore.
 Alright, you glorious Rat Phixers and Phlyers, if we ever survived a TAD, a Det, or a BOHICA, who haven't, and you didn’t think I was the biggest gaff off in the squadron. Got a sea story, or some grainy photos your ex didn’t set on fire, and they’re only slightly illegal? Send ‘em by email, snail mail, or safety wire it to a carrier pigeon. I collect ‘em all, just nothing that would incriminate me. 80svmfp3@gmail.com Return To The Home Page  |
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