Farewell to a Fallen Comrade
by LTC Mike Vrosh

"Death? - 'Tis but one of life's obligations." Byron said this many years ago and my friend and first NCOIC, MSgt Luis Salgado grew to accept this premise over the past year. Sal died on 15 April 93, after a lengthy bout with cancer. He said shortly before he died, "It may kill me but it'll never beat me." And for those of you who knew this fine NCO, you can attest to this being typical of his attitude. Sal also kept a good sense of humor right to the end. In February, when his wife Rose had a few friends over to help celebrate Sal's birthday, he said he didn't want any presents. "I don't what anything that will outlive me," was his position. One fellow did, though, give Sal and Rose a gift certificate for dinner at the Black Angus. Sal joked about it being his last supper.

I first knew Sal in the late seventies when we were both on the Little Rock Team. He took this young CCT officer under his wing and saw it as one of his obligations to mentor me into becoming a good CCT officer. He cared enough to go the extra mile "and then some" to insure the young officer learned, not only the technical aspects of our job, but also how to take care of the troops. Sal said, " if you take care of them, they'll take care of you." Furthermore, even as our stan-eval examiner at Little Rock, he spent more time teaching than evaluating.

Sal and I became close friends on our next assignment together at Norton AFB. I was the team leader and he the superintendent. We worked together closely on the job, and he and Rose and my wife and I cemented our personal relationship. There's one story about Sal that I want to share that personifies his perspective on life, his unabashed caring for all his troops - even his officer. There was a grizzled, old senior NCO on the IG team during that time period. He was famous for eating young officers alive out in the field. A tough, ornery, old bird: mean as the junk yard dog. His presence inspired terror throughout the system. He made Freddy Kruger look like Santa Claus.

Sal and I had been preparing the team for his inspection for months - preparing the briefings, cleaning up the supply account, training the troops - inspecting everything we could think of ourselves, first. I know of at least one other young team leader of another unit that quit Combat Control prior to his inspection because of the inspector's rep. But Sal knew we'd get through the ORI.

The big day finally rolled around, we met the team at the airplane and, right there on the ramp, the inspector immediately started his act. Careful scrutiny of the uniforms, a lot of growling and hissing, and a few threats! I just knew we were going to be had! This guy had no use for officers, much less brand new CCT captains. He made it painfully clear I had to prove my worth.

Anyway, after 36 hours of receiving our taskings, mobilizing all our men and equipment, rehearsing, briefing, etc, - dog tired, we finally boarded the aircraft for the six hour flight to R-5311 and our pathfinder parachute insertion. We got no sleep enroute to North Carolina because the aircraft heating system was broken so we stayed awake shivering the whole way. We finally jumped int Nijmegen DZ around 0800 and then rallied the team for the 20 mile overland infiltration ahead.

Our route took us through the most difficult, mosquito infested, wet, smelly, swampland in North America. The terrain was covered with the meanest gotcha brambles I had ever seen. We had to hack our way through the briar patch with machetes. The jungles of Panama had nothing over this Godforsaken piece of real estate. Not five miles into the problem two of our guys fell to heat exhaustion. We're loaded down and by now its over 90 degrees with over 90 humidity. Didn't phase the inspector a bit. he proceeded to chew us up one side and down the other for our blankety blank poor PT program. He gave us 30 minuets to treat the two and get them back in formation or he was going to fail us. We cooled them off, pushed some fluids into them and got the team moving again. It seemed like every time we would get into thick brambles, we'd get hit with some kind of immediate action drill - frontal attack, side attack, gas attack, aerial.... This went on all day long! By about 2200 hrs, when we finally went into a hasty bivouac mode, to a man, we were beat. The inspector, true to form, came over to me and proceeded to dress me down for everything from poor IA performance to the team being out of shape. Finally Sal came over to him and said, "let's you and me go talk in private." So they disappeared behind a tree and ten minutes later Sal came back to me, gave me a thumbs up and asked how the skipper was doing (that's what he called me in those days.)

Well we got through the ORI just fine and three or four days later returned to Norton. Sal never said anything to me about what was said behind the tree.

Years later I moved to McChord AFB to become the Ops officer and who do you suppose is the CEM? Yup - Chief John Smith - the terror of the seven seas and Combat Control as the erstwhile IG evaluator. One day the chief told me what Sal said behind the tree. He basically told him to lay off his Captain or he would personally kick his ass. John told me that after Sal took that stand, it didn't matter what we did wrong for the rest of the inspection, we were going to pass. Sal saw it as his obligation and duty to protect his team leader. That's the kind of a guy he was and I'll never forget him. Sal loved his wife Rose and all his children and stepchildren. A family man though enough to be a family man - even in this business. Soldier, scholar, teacher, husband, father, role-model - all these roles he played out to the benefit of those whose lives he touched in the 56 short years he was with us. We only take solace in what Byron stated, "Heaven gives its favorites early death." Maybe St. Pete needs a good Combat Control Superintendent for the team up there. Someone who can take names and kick ass, but someone who can be compassionate, wise and strong. I've no doubt that our teammates who went on before him opened up their arms and welcomed Sal into the fold.

This writing I found personifies Luis Salgado's contribution: "These three little words are the secret to success. They are the difference between average people and top people in most organizations. The top people always do what is expected... and then some! they are thoughtful of others; they are considerate and kind... and then some! They met their obligations and responsibilities fairly and squarely... and then some! They are good friends and helpful neighbors... and then some! I am thankful for people like this, for they make the world livable. Their spirit of service is summed up in these little words... and then some!" And that's how Sal lived his life. He touched and influenced the lives of hundreds so his ideologies live on.

Sal was laid to rest in the Riverside National Cemetery in California with full military honors on 20 April 1993.