Tears and Triumphs (Paperback) | Released: 18 Aug 2019

The story of Vietnam veteran, quality consultant, and musician John R. Black, who rose from his childhood on a rural homestead to serve his country in the United States Army, including two tours in Vietnam. After a subsequent career at Boeing, Black became a globally recognized quality and Lean production consultant, most notably transferring the proven techniques of manufacturing quality improvement to revolutionize healthcare in the United States, Canada, and internationally. With frank language and humor, he reveals the hidden stories behind his professional success, tracing his earliest influences-from the joys of a close-knit family to abuse by a Catholic priest-through his family life, his wartime experiences, his return to music as a means of healing Vietnam wounds, and his current focus as a performing artist with an international following of fellow Vietnam vets. Read an excerpt: A pilot who was a friend of mine was replaced by an Air Force captain who drank a fifth a night. His hands shook every morning, and one day that seemed to catch up with him. He went to the airfield for a flight over the province but forgot to gas up his plane, an L-19 Bird Dog. How could a trained Air Force pilot flying in Vietnam in 1967 forget to make sure his airplane was fueled before taking off on a mission? Well, the military had given Cessna a challenge: The plane had to be capable of taking off and landing over a 50-foot obstacle in less than 600 feet at its maximum allowable gross weight. The plane that resulted from these specs, Cessna's Model 305, became known as the L-19 Bird Dog. During the Vietnam War it was used mostly for reconnaissance, finding targets or adjusting artillery, escorting convoys, and providing forward air control for tactical aircraft such as bombers. It would later be renamed the O-1, with the O standing for observation, until the Army officially retired it in 1974. The Bird Dog was aptly named. I flew a number of those flights over Go Cong province seated in the rear observation seat. If you were flying slowly over the province, it was easier for the passenger to search for and locate enemy ground positions. When we found the enemy- we hoped that was who it was, but in free-fire zones we usually knew who it was-the passenger would radio in that position to bring in artillery fire, for example. As a result, when the VC spotted a Bird Dog flying low overhead, they might expect that something might soon happen. The plane was vulnerable to ground fire, but the VC would not always take a shot because then they'd definitely be revealing their position. A Bird Dog passenger in another province who came into the country about the time I did took a round in his seat but was able to recover. Luckily I didn't get in that seat one early morning with this particular Air Force pilot, who was stone cold drunk. I said, "I'm getting out here and will take your picture as you take off." A movie clip of that takeoff would have shown a very brief taxi and takeoff but a great image of what followed. When he got to the end of the runway, the engine quit and the plane took a nosedive right into the swamp. I helped the pilot out of the cockpit, as I recall, and when he started to walk away, I said, "What are you doing?" "I'm going back to bed," he told me, and he walked back to the billets. When he woke up he was told he was relieved of duty as soon as his Seagram's hangover wore off.