How the Rusty Nail became the PJ Ceremonial Drink

It was the early portion of the wet season of 1971 in Southeast Asia along the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

For months the bad-guys (read: North Vietnamese, Pathet Laotians, and Red Chinese communist forces) had been taking a toll on American aerial resources interdicting the flow of traffic south on the Ho Chi Minh Trail.

Of course, any USAF or Navy fast-movers that got shot down meant that USAF and Navy rescue helicopters (but mainly USAF) had to go in and pick them up--which meant that if those sleek, fast- moving super-fast jets got clobber, imagine what such slow, lumbering, huge helicopters (HH-53C) of the 40th ARRS and the 37th ARRS would get. Quad' 50s, 37 mm, and 57 mm couldn't miss--and they usually didn't.

Now, it wasn't that we (ARRS) were loosing a lot of helos or men, but the overall loss-rate of U.S. aerial resources was beginning to climb to the point that we were becoming a bit 'concerned'.

Something was happening along that piece of bad-guy real estate which made those anti-aircraft gunners really good. Some in the American intell community thought that, perhaps, the bad-guys had gotten a copy of the then-current AF OJT manual on how to do things really smarter and more professionally. Perhaps they had all become qualified 7-levels. Whatever it was, they was good, and we was [sic] worried.

So, when we lost a PJ as a KIA or WIA, we'd get together at the NCO Club and simply drink ourselves into oblivion, giving hoo-ya's to him, telling war-stories, and wondering who'd be coming in to replace him. It was a ritual not dissimilar of past warriors in previous eras, probably no different than, say, WW II.

At NKP Royal Thai AFB (RTAFB), Thailand by mid-1971, shortly after the 40th ARRS had moved from Udorn RTAFB, we had lost someone to whatever status (KIA or WIA) on a mission, and the typical gathering had occurred at the club; and the typical toasting was in session. A PJ, who had just arrived at the unit from the States, suggested we formally adopt a ceremonial drink for such occasions instead of the run-of-the-mill rounds. And he mentioned something called a Rusty Nail.

No one had heard of it.

So it was tried. Drambui and Scotch. Sounded like ca-ca; tasted the same; and it was soundly besmirched and disparaged. But the guy who suggested it was of sufficient popularity and rank, and mused that, perhaps, the PJ palates were not sufficiently sophisticated.

No, it was merely the wrong scotch.

So various brands such as Doers, J&B, Ballantines', Johnny Red, Jack Daniel's, even Chivas Regal were tried--nothing worked until the time Johnny Walker Green was poured. The combination was pure nectar. And if one got drunk enough, it rhymed with Jolly Green: Johnny Green/Jolly Green. "... Johnny Green or Jolly Green ... or ... hell, just give me another Rusty Nail."

Now the proper toasting of PJ fallen could really be done in style. One could hardly wait until the next guy got hosed, it seemed.

But at about the same time of this monumental breakthrough in PJ tradition or etiquette or... whatever ... was being made, U.S. intell sources had discovered why the bad-guy gunners had become so good: Soviet-imported Fan Song surface-to-air radar tracking systems. So the bad-guys had up- graded electronically, eh?

With that knowledge, U.S. aerial assets went after those targets with their own electronic upgrades, and with a vengeance. Day and night our forces blew the ca-ca out of those sites; one could look off into the horizon and follow the rising smoke columns all the way back into North Vietnam.

And the losses of American men and material dramatically dropped.
But it was too late for the PJs at NKP; they'd already become hooked on Rusty Nails. Those guys

would celebrate anything for an excuse to raise a toast of a Rusty Nail.
They'd call a toast if a guy had a birthday--even if it were 10 years ago; they call for a toast if his wife

were pregnant--or if he got someone else's wife pregnant.
If his son or daughter won a baseball or volleyball game: toast.
If he were going home: toast.
Promotion: toast.
One PJ even commented, "Hey, I got a dose of the clap last week ..." Toast. It was crazy, but the custom had been established.

Rusty Nails were born in Southeast Asia as the 40th ARRS Pararescue Team drink. The words to the toast were simple and uncomplicated yet extremely meaningful: 'TO PJs PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE'.

When the war in Southwest Asia kicked in, our brother PJ and CRO warriors took the drink there; they did not let the custom of their predecessors fade away. From SEA to SWA, it prevailed.

And today before PJs and CROs deploy, or upon the sad occasions when losses occur from their ranks, our warriors raise their glasses of Rusty Nails and toast to:

Written by:

CMSgt (ret) Wayne Fisk (PJ 1966 - '83)

"PJs/CROs past, present, and future."

Original member 40 ARRS
1967-1968: 40 ARRS Udron RTAFB, Thai
1969-1970: 37 ARRS DaNang AB, RVN
1970-1971: 40 ARRS Udron RTAFB, Thai
1971-1972: 40 ARRS Nakorn Phanom (NKP) RTAFB, Thai (origination of the PJ team drink) 1974-1976: 40 ARRS Nakorn Phanom RTAFB, Thai