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During the Vietnam War, thousands of U.S. aircraft fell casualty to anti-aircraft artillery, surface-to-air missiles and fighter jet opposition. All total, it’s estimated America lost 10,000 aircraft; 3,700 airplanes, 5,607 helicopters, and 578 unmanned aerial vehicles — fortunately, Oliver “Ollie” Maier didn’t suffer that fate.
Maier’s story is unique for several reasons. At a young age — around 7 or 8 — he received a leather helmet, complete with goggles, that had been a pilot’s headgear from World War II.
From there, he often pretended to be a pilot.
When he turned 10 his cousin, who had returned home from the war, buzzed the field he was working in, with a low-level flyby in his P-51 Mustang.
“When I went to high school, we had a P-51 static display outside the shop building,” Maier said. “I helped polish it. I often dreamt of being a pilot — day and night.”
But how he came to be a part of the Air Force, Maier’s said was a “little unusual.”
“I was cultivating corn one hot, dusty day, a light aircraft landed on the road next to the field we were working on,” Maier said. “The pilot got out of his plane and made some notes on a clipboard, got back in and took off. It looked like a lot more fun than what I was doing.”
Not long after, Maier began college and as quickly as he could started taking pre-engineering courses to become a civil engineer. That way he could take flying lessons through the college to become a pilot.
“During spring break, some of my college friends mentioned they were going to take a test to see if they could become Air Force Aviation Cadets,” Maier said. “They invited me to go along since they knew I was taking flying lessons. They said it wouldn’t cost a thing, even if I pass all the tests, I didn’t have to join the Air Force.”
Maier said up until that point he hadn’t given a thought about joining the Air Force but decided, “why not… let’s see how I do on those tests.”
“Strangely enough, out of the five of us who took the test, I was the only one to pass them all,” Maier said. “When the recruiter asked if I wanted to join the Air Force, after a minute or so thought, why not? After all, they’ll pay me to fly whereas now I’m having to pay for flying lessons. So, I joined.”
Following flight training, Maier’s dream of becoming a fighter pilot came true.
“With my gold bars and wings, I was assigned to fighter gunnery school,” Maier said. “I flew the F-84F and the F-100.”
Maier’s career in the Air Force became one of legendary status.
During his 20 years of service, he was awarded 21 Air Medals and five Distinguished Flying Crosses during his one-year tour in Vietnam. But that’s not all. He also flew more combat missions than any other pilot — 502 —between 1967-68 in his A-37 “Dragonfly” fighter.
Ollie Maier gives a thumbs up. Maier flew more combat missions than any other pilot — 502, between 1967-68 in his A-37 “Dragonfly” fighter.
Maier’s said the most meaningful award he thought he was going to get he never received.
“My wingman and I were scrambled from the alert pad to a ‘Troops in Contact’ mission in IV Corps in ‘Nam,” he said. “En route, I learned friendlies were pinned down and were in fear of being overrun.”
When Maier arrived and ‘Cleared in Hot,’ he rolled into a position to bomb the enemy.
In a fierce, intense battle Maier said he could monitor the conversation between the ground command and the Forward Air Controller — FAC with the many radios he had onboard.
“Imagine my surprise when I heard the ground command telling the FAC; ‘I can see the lead aircraft diving in. They are shooting and hitting him… I can see pieces of his aircraft falling off!’” he heard. “I thought hey, they’re talking about me and my aircraft.”
Sure enough, Maier looked out at his wings and could see several bullet holes in them, it was not good.
“Normally when an aircraft has battle damage, the top priority is to leave the battle scene and recover the aircraft as safely as possible,” he said. “But I was still concerned about the troops pinned down on the ground. So, I asked the FAC if there were other fighters in the area that could assist. He replied no.
It would be at least an hour before help could arrive.
Maier said since it was approaching dusk, and smoke-filled the air from farmers burning their rice fields, haze in the area would make it doubtful other fighters would arrive in time to be much help.
“I decided to continue fighting,” he said. “My aircraft was still fully controllable — so why not.”
Maier was told by observers in the area the anti-aircraft guns that put holes in his plane were in a nearby riverbank.
“The enemy had dug tunnels into the riverbank so they could pull their guns in when they weren’t firing at an aircraft,” he said. “This being the case I came up with a plan.”
Maier said without the enemy seeing him, he would send his wingman up the river a short distance. Then, when he made his next run against the target, his wingman could fly down the river and drop his CBU’s (cluster bomb units) on the anti-aircraft gunners as they pulled out their guns to shoot at Maier.
The FAC and ground commander approved his plan and it worked, perfectly.
“No more shooting at me as I dropped the rest of my bombs on the primary target saving our troops. ‘That was a Silver Star mission if I ever saw one,’ the FAC told me,” Maier said.
“I replied, ‘I’m not too proud to accept one if you want to put me in for one.’”
After landing safely, Maier said he “thanked the man upstairs.” He also thanked the tower for sending out emergency vehicles to keep him and his damaged aircraft safe.
Unfortunately for Maier he never received the Silver Star. Shortly thereafter the FAC was shot down before he could recommend him for it.
An A-37 “Dragonfly” fighter soars in the air.
Maier said there were many memorable moments.
“One example might be when I had my engine come apart one night in bad weather,” he said. “I lost my generator and hydraulic systems, too. Although the radio lasted long enough for the radar to give me an emergency heading back to base when the radio went out all I had was the altitude indicator to keep me somewhat upright. I was hoping I would break out of the 1,000-feet ceiling in a position to make the runway or I’d have to punch out.”
He said God was with him and he made it safely to the runway.
“Good thing, too. In my haste to make a take-off time, I had failed to fasten my parachute straps, which I was not aware of until getting out of the airplane,” he said. “Had I been required to eject…well the outcome wouldn’t have been good for me.”
Throughout his life and career Maier said he learned not to be afraid to ask for help from the Lord when things are trying.
“It’s also instilled in me the desire to be as prepared as possible for anything,” Maier said. “It showed me it pays not only do the job required but to do even more when you can. If you think something can be done better… don’t be afraid to ‘tactfully’ suggest it.”
Editor’s Note: Maier has lived in San Marcos since 1982 and regularly writes a column for the San Marcos Daily Record.
