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"Turn Right." Last week Earthquake McGoon and his fellow pilots gulped their usual cups of bitter coffee, desultorily played darts in the airfield canteen while waiting to take off. In the afternoon flight, Earthquake flew "Bird Two" in a flight of six, with Wallace Buford, 28, as copilot.
Over Dienbienphu, Earthquake had just dropped down to 3,000 ft. for his run when his voice cracked over the radio: "I've got a direct hit." Steve Kusak swung his plane in behind Earthquake's. One of Bird Two's engines was spurting oil, and Earthquake feathered it. Just then, a second shell tore a hole in one of the tail booms. The stricken plane lurched. Earthquake caught sight of a riverbed ahead, flanked by 4,000 ft. mountains. "Steve, tell me which way the mountains are lowest," Earthquake said to the plane above him. Steve took a hasty look, called, "Turn right."
Earthquake headed his sinking plane into the steep valley. But the controls were crippled. The plane slipped wide, skidded sickeningly toward the spiky hills. As Steve watched helplessly, Earthquake's voice came coolly over the radio. "Looks like this is it, son," he said. The left wing tipped the rocky hillside. The huge plane did a slow, ponderous cartwheel and burst into an orange-black blossom of flame and smoke. It was Earthquake's 45th mission.
Next day, Dienbienphu fell.