I’ve written about this character in five short stories. In the first one, he was a broken veteran who wanted to die to see his wife again. But then he found purpose when he saved his granddaughter and reunited with his estranged son. So I decided to twist the story of trauma on its head and tell it from the perspective of his son. This is a TV interview (notice the name of the show?), but someday, I will turn this into a novel. Enjoy. It’s about 1,600 words.
Transcript. Conversations with Daniel Danielson. Episode 124. Air Date. March 23, 2026
Intro: Good evening. I’m Daniel Danielson, and this is Conversations. Our guest tonight isn’t new to interviews. Van Vaughn Jr., a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, is an investigative reporter from Mississippi and has also written a new book called “Up in the Delta Sky: A hero’s journey from Hell to redemption”. Van, since you’re not unfamiliar with interviews, welcome to the program.
Vaughn: (Shuffling nervously) I must admit that I am not used to being asked the questions.
Danielson: Congratulations on your book; you needn’t have looked very far to locate your subject.
Vaughn: Actually, I searched for him my whole life; this book tells my father’s remarkable journey from a prison cell in Vietnam to a prison cell in his own mind, from losing a love to finding a love which in the end rescued his damaged soul.
Danielson: I know that it was written from a place of love.
Vaughn: Not truly. I hated that man for most of my life, but it’s easy to hate things that you don’t understand.
Danielson: (Pause) Hmm. Where should we start?
Vaughn: My father was born in Indianola, Mississippi, shortly after World War II; his father had been a paratrooper and had landed in Normandy, fighting all the way through to the end of the war. He was captured by a member of the SS and yet came home alive. When he came back, he was harsh and abusive. I never got to know my grandfather, a man who was completely consumed by his own PTSD. He died when my father went to Vietnam; he had said that no child of his should go to war, and he just keeled over and died when Dad volunteered. Grandpa had met his match.
Danielson: Your Dad was already forged before going to war. He was a pilot, right?
Vaughn: Yes, he flew the Sandys — I should say the A-1 Skyraiders. He provided air cover and escort for Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR) operations. My father was like a sheepdog who looked after his flock.
Danielson: The A-1 Skyraider wasn’t a high-flying jet. It flew low and slow.
Vaughn: Yes. It was a beast of an aircraft. And Dad was a beast of a pilot. When a pilot went down, he knew Dad would fly low and protect him. And he did. When the helicopter roared in to pick up the pilot, Dad flew low and provided cover fire.
Danielson: Can you tell us about the mission that made him famous?
Vaughn: Things were going along perfectly until the MiG appeared. Dad drove it away, but his plane was badly damaged, and still he remained on station. Eventually his engine stopped working, so Dad pulled the control stick in order to reach as much altitude as he could. Then he jumped out, fought off the Viet Cong, and let the other pilot get away. After that, they held him in the Hanoi Hilton for the next six years. Dad was really a sheepdog. The President would eventually pin a medal on him for that.
Danielson: But that was in the future. Your family didn’t even know that he was still alive.
Vaughn: Not initially. Lord knows how Dad survived the torture. I guess growing up with his father prepared him for his captors.
Danielson: Do you remember his homecoming?
Vaughn: I’m not sure he ever came home. My mother, Angie, was a saint. PTSD, like it did Grandpa, ate up Dad. And he self-medicated with work. Dad, being a hero, was recruited by the airlines. He flew with TWA — Trans World Airlines — and worked his way up to flying to Europe on 747s. Mom claimed he had a mistress. He did — work. I hated him for not being there for me. I also hated what he did to Mom. She soon got sick. It was breast cancer, and she didn’t last a year. I blamed him. I was wrong.
Danielson: That really takes a lot to admit that you were wrong.
Vaughn: It took time. Nearly a lifetime.
Danielson: I can imagine. How did your Dad handle your mom’s death?
Vaughn: He didn’t. He fell into a deep depression, left the airlines, and took a job as an agricultural aviator — that is, a crop duster — in the Delta. Then he began flying in a way that seemed suicidal. He said he wanted to fly high enough to see my mother and actually named his plane after her. I eventually ended up living with my grandmother because Dad became obsessed with chasing my mom’s ghost. Dad flew under the power lines so low that leaves were wedged into his landing gear. He wanted to die so he could see Mom again.
Danielson: Yet he didn’t die. Now then, please tell us about the day he found your daughter.
Vaughn: For 30 years he flew all over the Delta like a madman. He knew every square inch except my house. For 30 years, I ignored his calls, letters, and pleas. He died in my mind when Mom died. I did well in school and decided to become a journalist. So I went to Columbia and eventually worked for the New York Times. Then I decided to buy a small paper in Indianola so I could raise my daughter, named after Mom, in a quieter place.
Danielson: And then your daughter Angie ran away.
Vaughn: She was four. One day my wife Ann noticed the back gate open. I called the sheriff to search for her, and I beat back the Delta to find her. I was panicking and praying to God. And then that damn plane roared overhead. The Sheepdog was coming to the rescue. I’ve never seen a plane fly that low.
Danielson: It was your dad.
Vaughn: He found Angie in the middle of a creek. Lord, it’s a miracle she didn’t get bitten by a snake. He orbited her until the sheriff could get there. Dad saved my little girl. He couldn’t save Mom, but he saved her namesake.
Danielson: So you started talking.
Vaughn: No, I began to listen; when the old man landed his plane that afternoon, he cried like a child. All the fear seemed to drain out of his eyes.
Danielson: You invited him back into your lives.
Vaughn: Yes.
Danielson: Did you ever learn how to fly?
Vaughn: Aw, hell no. Are you kidding? I was going to be the total opposite of him, well, at least until that day. And then I understood what I couldn’t before. Hurt people hurt people. And sometimes with the best intentions.
Danielson: Your dad wanted to die so he could see your mom again. One day, he got his wish.
Vaughn: I never believed he would make a mistake, but he did. Clipped a power line and flipped. He ended up in a crumpled Air Tractor in the middle of a cotton field. And the crazy thing is, Mom came to him — and told him to LIVE! He could have joined her, but she told him that Angie needed her Papa Van. When we found him, he was mumbling, “Sweetie.” That was his nickname for mom.
Danielson: Is that how he lost his leg?
Vaughn: Yes. But he gained a purpose. He practically raised Angie. And she loved him. Once, he had a heart attack while they were in the air, and she put the plane down near the local hospital. She landed on the highway in front of the emergency room. Angie saved him. The sheepdog had finally been saved by the girl he’d rescued.
Danielson: Did he see your Mom again?
Vaughn: No. He lived in the present, not the past. Dad got tougher after his heart attack, but also more tender. We bonded, and he told me his story. He wanted me to write it all down — because I was the best writer in his eyes. I couldn’t believe what he went through. It was torture that would break the toughest stoic. But he became tender once he started loving us. He focused on gardening, flying, annoying our neighbor, and taking on bullies in town. When he was 80, he went back to Vietnam, stood in his cell, and met a couple of his guards. And he forgave them.
Danielson: Really?!?
Vaughn: Really. If the older man could forgive someone who pulled his fingernails off, who was I to hate him still?
Danielson: And Angie?
Vaughn: She attended the Air Force Academy and flies F-22s. She doesn’t like flying low. Dad was so proud when she graduated. He gave her his pilot’s wings and was introduced on stage as the hero he was. She was so proud to stand next to him that day.
Danielson: Van, how did your Dad pass?
Vaughn: Cancer. It was lymphoma. Stage IV. And it happened fast, although he lived a long, productive life. His body was in pain. Yet his soul was at total peace.
Danielson: Wow! Were you there when he died?
Vaughn: Yes. My daughter Angie, Ann, and I were holding his hand in hospice. I’m so grateful we were. And I’m grateful Angie was home on leave. I swear he waited until he could say goodbye to her. But someone else was there with us.
Danielson: Who?
Vaughn: Mom.
Danielson: REALLY?
Vaughn: As he took his last breath, we could see her glowing, translucent figure standing at his feet, reaching out to grab his hand. She looked just as beautiful as she did before she got sick. And his last words? “I love you, Sweetie.”
Danielson: So. This book is about how your father learned to live with his demons.
Vaughn: No. It’s a book about how my father, the sheepdog, saved me from mine.
Danielson: I want to thank our guest, Van Vaughn, Jr., for sharing his father’s incredible life. You can find “Up in the Delta Sky” at all of your favorite independent bookstores. On behalf of the Conversations crew, thank you for watching.