Guest Writer – Steve Salkof; My Friend Mag

Many people will walk in and out of your life, but only true friends will leave footprints in your heart.  ∼ Eleanor Roosevelt

Two hundred and seventy three thousand Airmen served in Vietnam during the war.

                                 Introduction

Steve Salkof, a United States Air Force Veteran – entered service on April 21, 1966. After basic training at Amarillo, his first duty station was at Charleston AFB with the 437 Aerial Port Squadron as an Air Freight Specialist.  A TDY (temporary duty assignment) to Yokota AB in early 1968, then back to Charleston until his Vietnam tour of duty from 3/14/68 until 3/14/69. After Vietnam, his last base was at Homestead until his discharge in February 1970, driving home from there, back to Philadelphia, in his brand new 1969 Camaro SS396 375hp, hugger orange, screaming machine.

Steve is a former salesman, manager, Regional Training Manager, and IT QA person – for over 30 years with Pep Boys – now since retired. Long time Martial Artist practitioner (first started while at Phu Bai with the Korean (ROK) and Vietnamese (ARVN) military which continued once back in the world. For the past 40+ years, his sole practice, teaching and study is Taijiquan (Tai Chi Chuan).

Steve has shared a tribute to his friend; please enjoy it.

My Friend Mag

Steve Salkof

From Basic Training to Charleston Air Force Base

It was a bright, hot sunny afternoon when I arrived at Charleston Air Force Base, sometime in early May 1966. It was my first base since finishing basic training at Amarillo AFB in May of same year (1966). “Air Freight Specialist”, yep, that’s me. Got squared away and assigned to my new home (barracks), the number of that building I have long forgotten. It was a large, three-story barracks with separate rooms, most of which housed about three airmen to each room. Spit shine clean as well. I soon found out exactly how each room was maintained as well as the whole floor. I should go on to mention that Charleston AFB was home to the 437 Aerial Port Squadron (APS).

My first roommate was a seasoned Staff Sargent (again, name evades me) who was all business. Sharp as a tack. Spit shine everything, to the max. I was impressed by his mannerisms and professionalism as a new dude on the block. In the short time I bunked with him, I certainly learned much about the various ins and outs of base life. Fast forward, a month or so, when that all changed (all for the better, rest assured.)

First Weeks on the Flight Line

I soon met some of the crew who would teach me the ropes of off and on loading the many aircraft on the flight line, i.e., C-130’s, C-141’s, C-123, C-124’s, and many more. Work was tough for me since I weighed all of 127 lbs, soaking wet. I am still amazed at what I was able to accomplish, pushing, loading, lifting all that cargo. Sure, we were all in it together, but each one of us gave 100% of ourselves every day. There were also some amazing civilians who worked right along with us. One was Keith. A great dude! Always had a pipe hanging out of his mouth. Keith readily passed on his vast knowledge of air freight to us, i.e., tie downs, balancing the loads. I had many other seasoned airmen that I learned from equally as well. Tough learning, but I thoroughly enjoyed my time there.

How I met Nick “Mag” Fanale

There were several airmen that were becoming fast friends with me. The one that stands out amongst all was “Mag”. How did we become such lifelong buddies from 1966 up unit his untimely passing, one might ask. Lots of stories and memories.

If my memory serves me right, at first, I worked a 12-hour shift on the flight line (12 hours on, 12 hours off). It was during my off time when I decided to catch a flick at the base theater. Once inside, at the concession stand, there were two airmen I noticed chatting away. I soon found out they were looking at everyone’s shoes (don’t laugh) and trying to guess which area(s) they were from. I, at the time, was wearing some black leather shoes with Cuban heels (very popular at the time in Philly). They took notice and said I must be from New York or somewhere close. Good guess. They introduced themselves – Russ “Ricco” Riccobono and Greg “Candy” Candera. I also have kept in touch with Ricco all these years and visited him out in California awhile back. He grew up in Deer Park, NY., and Candera was from Trenton, NJ. Neighbors! I found out they were bunked at the same barracks as I and also on the third floor.

Motor heads always found each other

Now for Mag. I was hanging out at Ricco’s room when Mag walked in and introduced himself. He bunked in the next room over from Ricco. Mag was the only guy I knew who also owned a ’57 Chevy on base. Wow! Right up my alley. I was always a Motor Head and a good mechanic from my teens. Always working on my vintage Mercury and my Chevy Impala 348 way back when. Lots of experience. Used to also work on neighbors’ cars as well. Anyway, one sunny morning Mag went out to his car in the parking lot. We were going to go downtown Charleston for a bit. As it happened, his car wouldn’t start. Starter wouldn’t catch. We got out and I opened the hood, checking this and that. I determined that the starter was bad -kaput! I offered to replace it for him right on the spot and check out the rest of the engine, etc. We were able to obtain a starter from a store not too far off base. Luckily, Mag had the necessary tools and meters in his trunk. I jacked up the car enough for me to wiggle under, took out the old starter and replace the new one. I also checked his timing, dwell, idle and so on. Done! From that single day on, Mag handed me an extra set of keys and told me I could borrow his car anytime I felt the need to. He also asked me to transfer from my old room and join him at his bunked room. Took up that invite the same day. That small gesture on my part solidified our friendship that lasted, which seemed like, forever.

Refrigerator Fiasco

As with many of us at Charleston, at times our parents, relatives, etc., would often send us “Care Packages” loaded with all kinds of tasty snacks and goodies. Once those packages arrived and opened, it was like a signal going off to everyone on the floor to come in for a snack or two. Thing is, we didn’t have a fridge in our room to keep the perishables from spoiling. Mag immediately suggested to me that we should go downtown to buy a used fridge. We did just that. I think we paid $15.00 for a good condition fridge. The only thing is, how the heck are we going to lug it back on base? Mag got the bright idea that we stuff it in his ’57 Chevy trunk. Now, you know the trunks of those years’ cars were pretty large. But large enough for a fridge? The store manager helped us move the fridge outside near Mag’s car, but that was as far as he would do so. The rest was up to me ’n Mag. Remember me saying I only weighed 127 lbs? Mag outweighed me by much more and solid as a rock. We managed to move the fridge close to the trunk as possible. Next, the two of us tilted the fridge over the edge of the trunk and flipped it into the trunk as far as possible. The rest was tied to the bumper and any spot that we could think of with tie-down straps “borrowed” from the base (shh…. don’t tell anyone). Now to get back to base – SLOWLY. It’s a wonder how we made it without getting pulled over by the local police. Thankful for that. Made it to the parking lot right next to the barracks.

Mag was a natural furniture mover

One would think this is a done deal, right? Wrong! Looking up at the iron steps leading up to the third floor wondering, again, how in the heck are we going to lug that up there? It was only the two of us. Mag brushed off the worry and just said, “Let’s go, Steve”! Just like loading an aircraft, pushing, shoving, lugging, and shoving again, somehow, we made it to the bottom of the stairs. Next – up the stairs to the third floor. Yikes!!! Mag wrapped a strap around the fridge for support and for something to grab upon. Guess where Mag told me to go…. yep….at the rear end of the fridge. Upon his command, he pulled up on the strap whilst I, with my back towards the bottom half of the fridge, grunted and shoved until it reached the next step. This process repeated itself all the way to the top floor. To this day, I honestly don’t know how we made it to the top, just the two of us. I don’t think Mag broke a sweat. Me, I was exhausted to the max. Glad we did finally get the job done. The rest was a piece of cake. We shoved the fridge to our room and put it in a good spot, easy to reach. That $15.00 purchase was the best decision we both made. Kept us many a can of soda, snacks, pizza from the many parties we had, and so much more.

Our Radio DJ Broadcast

Ricco was an accomplished Bass Guitar player and an electronic wiz. The three of us loved the oldies and would often speak of local DJs from our neighborhoods. Ricco enjoyed listening to Cousin Brucie on 77 WABC, New York. Mag liked to listen to The Wolfman on WLS Chicago. Me, I had many favorites, i.e., Hy Lit on WIBG, Philly (Philadelphia), Jerry Blavit on WHAT and several others. Well, hearing all our stories, Ricco came up with the idea of us 3 creating a radio DJ in our rooms. He somehow got a Heathkit FM transmitter that he put together. At night, we went up on the roof of our barracks through the hatch (unlocked, luckily). We were able to string a thin cable wire around the roof and secured it in place. Next, we connected another cable from that antenna inside our room through a window. We were also able to make use of an old 45rpm record player next to the transmitter. The next day, after work hours, the three of us, Mag, Ricco and myself, tested out our new system. Me imitating “The Geater with the Heater”, Jerry Blavit, Ricco was “Cousin Brucie” and Mag was “The Wolfman” in his perfect gravel voice (one would swear Wolfman was in the room). This transmitter would search out a weak radio signal and actually broadcast on the public air. Amazing! Word soon got out on base what we were doing and those with radios would be able to listen in. All this was short lived, though. We heard on the air from a local Charleston radio station from a DJ. He stated, “Well, looks like we have a little competition on the airbase with some local airmen broadcasting over the air”. Word of this caught the attention of the base commander and the next thing we knew, a transmitter signal jeep was seen circulating around us hunting for the transmission. Before they could discover where it came from, we high-tailed it back up on the roof and dismantled the antenna, wiring and hid the transmitter. Our short lived “claim-to-fame” broadcasting days” were done, fine, kaput…. end of story. We sure had fun though. Mag and I, when he was still on this earth, would never tire of telling that story over and over, oh so many times.

Mags Passing and Final Days

To recap, Mag and I kept in touch ever since the day we met in May 1966, right up until his passing in June 2023. We would call each other often, laughing and joking about those early days and beyond. I departed Charleston in 1968 and off I went to Vietnam. March 14, 1968, I was stationed at Phu Bai until March 1969. Homestead AFB was my last duty station and was discharged on February 20, 1970. Mag also went to Vietnam around the same time as I did. We lost contact while in ’Nam. Once home, for me, I settled into civilian life. Fast forward a short time, I contacted Mag, and we spoke for quite awhile, bringing us both up to date with happenings, etc. Again, those conversations continued. As Mag’s health started to deteriorate, due to Agent Orange exposures, he was able to obtain disability compensation. There was a time when he did not receive 100% disability. At that time, I’ve had quite the experience with the VA system, i.e., who to contact for needs, MyHealtheVet usage and so much more. I passed along this information to Mag and his wife as well. He was using a wheelchair to get around and it was difficult to wheel about. I asked him about a mobility cart to which he didn’t know the VA can provide. I contacted his local VA to inquire about how to get one. I called Mag back the next day and told him the procedures. A week or two later, a brand-new mobility cart was delivered. The VA contracted a company to come out and modify his car with a lift for the cart and installed a ramp outside of his home leading to the front door. Much more. I guided him to a local VSO (Veteran Service Officer) to put in a claim for higher disability. It was not long after that he was awarded full 100%. Many additional benefits came his way and for his wife as well. And, yes, I still keep in touch with his wife as of this writing…and shall forever. I will always continue to honor our friendship and will eventually meet up on the other side. Slow Hand Salute…. RIP, Mag.

Mag’s final resting place

***

Share this article as you wish, in entirety citing Joe and his guest author for the work. Copyright protected, all rights reserved © Joe Campolo Jr