Just Point Him Toward Sky Harbor…

Mike C. once told me about a young Lt. who took a jet (T-38) out on a weekend cross country with a Flight Surgeon who needed to log some flying time.  This wasn’t unusual, I did it a few times myself.

Apparently this particular Lt. was building a reputation as somewhat of a ‘screw-up.’  Yes, we had them – not many, but we had the.  It was upon his return that Sunday that he got his “name in lights” once again.

Mike was the SOF that day and first became aware that there was a ‘problem’ when ATC called to tell him that one of his jets was diverting from Willi to Luke because of ‘high crosswinds.’  Mike asked ATC to ask the IP how much fuel he had remaining.  As it turned out, not enough to make to Luke, some 50 miles away from Willi.

Earlier, when this Lt. began his descent into Willi that afternoon, the crosswinds were below 15 knots.  But they soon increased to between 15 and 20 knots.  The ‘Solo’ (Student) crosswind limit for the T-38 was 15 knots.  For everyone else, the limit was the T-38 design limit of 25 knots.  This guy thought that, because he was a “solo” pilot flying with a flight surgeon, his crosswind limit was 15 knots, so he diverted!  Yep, we had a ‘few of them!’  So, off he heads for Luke AFB…

Mike then told ATC, “Point him to Sky Harbor (Phoenix International) and tell him it’s Luke.  He’s too stupid to know the difference.!”  And the “solo” pilot subsequently landed uneventfully at Sky Harbor, albeit without much gas remaining.

I later heard that this guy soon received an assignment to T-43s at Mather AFB, CA, with the hopes of having “adult supervision” with him when he flew…


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How Do You Spell the Name?

My second trip with Major General LeRoy Svendsen was a 3-day cross-country to Las Vegas.  He had some business out there and I was once again, his “seeing-eye IP.”

The trip was more or less straightforward until we stopped at Willi, (Williams AFB, AZ), on the return.  After a couple touch and goes, he made the full stop.  On rollout we were directed to contact Base Ops (Operations).  So I flicked over to their frequency and checked in.

“Willi Ops, Tonto 07 is on freq,” I called.

“Sir,” came the reply, “how do you spell the name?”

Now remember, I was flying with General Svendsen.  I instantly figured out that they probably had some young airman, with a bag full of letters standing at the marquee in front of Base Ops, wondering how to spell the general’s name:  Svendsen, or Svendson, or whatever.  So I asked, as we continued to roll out, “Are you ready to copy?”

“Yes Sir,” came the reply.

“B-O-B” was my transmission, and the radio went silent!  The General, listening to the whole conversation, began laughing his ass off while clapping his hands over his head!

When we reached parking there was the usual greeting party; the Wing Commander, the Base Commander, The Director of Ops and a few “horse-holders,” and one steaming base Operations Officer.  He was the fat major in the background, and he wanted to talk to me!

As we deplaned I fell in behind General Svendsen, with my eye on the angry, fat major.  He motioned for me to come over to him, and I shook my head, “No.”  By the way, I was still a Captain at this time.  As we trooped the line of the greeting party I once again glanced at the angry, fat major.  Nor he was motioning for me to come over to him by curling his fat, little index finger on his right hand.

“No,” and again, I shook my head.  That just went to piss him off even more.  Now he curled his finger at me with ever more ‘authority,’ and began squinting at me with his beady eyes, now pointing down with his index finger for me to put my person directly in front of him.  Still, not going to do it!

At this point he became ‘very animated’ and pointing to his rank, he once again then pointed down to the space in front of him.  “Okay, that’s the game,” I thought to myself, I pointed to General Svendsen’s 2 stars, and flipped him off – never to look at him again.

I also made sure that I never went to Willi again for 6 months or so…

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Late Night Lieutenant?

The IP-Student relationship was very formal in the beginning of their training.  It had to be.  I had no desire to be their ‘friend.’  Jay Barnes once explained it very well for me.  He once said, during my Buddy IP training, “Bob, there will come a day when you’ll have to look across the desk at that kid who wants to be a pilot so bad, and put a bullet right between his eyes (wash him out of the program).  You need to keep your distance from your students to remain objective.  Sometime after the Formation Two-ship Check you can begin to loosen up a bit, if you want.  But until then, keep it straight and narrow.  Firm, but Fair.”  I subsequently used that guidance for my entire T-38 IP career.

In late ’75 my wife’s sister came to live with us for a while.  We lived on base at the time.  She was young and single so we introduced her to T., one of my first students, and they seemed to get along very well.  We had a boat at the time and would take them with us up to the lake and so forth.

One morning, on ‘Early Week,” I got up around 0430 for a 05015 hrs. report time.  As I walked out into the living room I noticed there were 2 “lumps” in our hide-a-bed, where there should have only been 1 “lump.”  Crap!  So I crept back into our bedroom and explained it all to my wife.  I then grabbed our alarm clock and fired it off again, while standing in the doorway.

“Oh shit,” I heard coming from the living room.  And, after a certain amount of panic scurrying I heard the door open.  But I never heard a car start.  Odd.  Anyway, after another couple minutes I walked down the hallway into the living room.  I couldn’t help myself; I walked over next to the bed, then patted my sister-in-law on her backside and said, “Smile if you got any last night…”  Then I headed off to work.

When I got to the flight line there was T., sitting at his assigned place at my desk.  How he did it, I wouldn’t have a clue.   Dress, shave and report – all within perhaps  15 – 20 minutes.  I was impressed.

T and I had a flight together on the first ‘go,’ and it went well.  However, during the de-brief, he had a hard time not yawning.  About the 3rd or 4th time he yawned, I looked up at him and asked, “Late night Lieutenant?”  To which he replied, “Yes, Sir.”  And that was all I ever said about the incident – only to ask him at graduation what he did about his car when he left that night.  “I pushed it down the block before I started it Sir,” came the reply.  Well, okay then….

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The Day Goes by So Much Better…

One morning ‘the Burker’ was the opening SOF (Supervisor of Flying) at Vance.  His report time that morning was around 0430 or so.  Helping him open that morning was a female Ops Specialist, a blonde 2-striper who had not been in the squadron long.

About an hour or so into the day she looked over at the Burker and remarked, “You know Capt. B., the day goes by so much better if you have a couple beers before coming in…

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Flying With Iranians…

In the late ’70’s, we received 29 Iranians at Vance AFB, OK for pilot training.  In preparation for these guys we had a 3-4 hour briefing on their (Muslim) customs from the State Department. (In retrospect, one of the best USAF briefings I ever received.)

One of the things they told us was that, in their society, if “they” lied” to you, and you didn’t ‘catch it,’ it wasn’t considered a lie. And, in addition, it was somewhat of an insult to these guys to challenge them if you suspected they were lying… Well, okay then.

I flew with their Class Leader, Lt. Bosh, very early on in his T-38 training.  We had just come back to the pattern and were coming off a touch-and-go I had demonstrated for him. As we pulled up for another pattern he asked me the final turn and final approach airspeeds – something he was responsible for knowing. I gave them to him, 10 knots slow.

As we were about mid-way through the final turn we began sinking like a sewer pipe. “Go around, use Burners!” the controller directed…

As we went around Lt. Bosh said, “Sir, I don’t think the airspeed was correct…”

“Well, you got me Lt. Bosh,” I replied. “I was just messing with you. I wanted to show you that, if I ask you a question and you lie to me, I will lie to you.  So, if I ask a question, and you do not know the answer, just tell me. Okay?”

“Sir, may I speak freely” he then asked.

“Of course.”

“Sir, I think you are crazy!”

But you know, the “word” got out and I never had any issues with those guys, and came to enjoy flying with them.

Note: These guys were all reported killed after they returned to Iran. They weren’t the Khomeini’s guys…

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The Country Ham

DQ was the “A” Flight Commander at ’38 PIT when I was the Chief of Check Section.  I liked DQ.  He was (somewhat) an ‘intense’ individual, hardly ever smiling.  In addition he could be quite “sharp”upon occasion.  But hey, he was from New York City – it came naturally to him!  But I liked DQ.

One morning he went up with Steve U. on a flight.  Steve was the Class Leader for DQ’s current class at the time.  From my understanding, the flight was rather nondescript, except in Steve’s eyes.  Apparently DQ had shown Steve a particular way of flying a maneuver that totally impressed him.  When they finished the debrief, Steve was apparently still unable to contain amazement with what DQ had shown him, to where he declared, “Maj. Q, that was so impressive, I am going to bring you a country ham!”  And the next morning, Steve walked into the flight room, carrying a country ham!

DQ was speechless!  I don’t know if anyone in the history of Air Force pilot training ever received a country ham for showing a student a particular way or another of performing a maneuver.  Perhaps a beer or two, but never a country ham.

I can still see DQ coming down the hallway with that ham in his hand, and a very perplexed look on his face!  Maybe you had to have been there, but DQ was obviously “rattled!”  And the look on his face, priceless… A country ham!

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I Got to ‘Put My Hands Under Mike Webster’s Butt!’

In the early 2000’s I was honored to speak at an Air Force Flight Surgeon’s Course at Brooks AFB, TX.  The topic of my presentation was, “How do pilots hide their drinking from Flight Surgeons.”  (Spoiler Alert:  We lie to ’em.  Shocking!).  It was during that presentation that morning that I realized just how much alcohol took from me, what I missed in flying by ‘flying drunk’ all those years.  Not ‘physically drunk, but certainly emotionally and psychologically drunk… in a ‘stupor’ if you will.

I had seen the acceptance speech of Terry Bradshaw where he lamented about ‘sticking his  hands under Mike Webster’s butt just one more time.’  That one comment really resonated with me.  I don’t know why that thought came to me during my presentation that morning, but it did, and I shared it with the residents.  (Have a look at the video below, 36 seconds into it…)

“What I wouldn’t give right now to strap on the Jet (the T-38A) and punch those Start buttons just one more time,” I lamented that day.  I must have struck a nerve with ‘Voodoo,’ one of the Residents, for a couple years later I was given that opportunity!

I was almost 60 years old at that time, and such a thing is almost unheard of.  But Voodoo went to ‘the mat’ for me, and I got a ride.


How many times have I made ‘this’ walk?

And oh, how it all flowed back to me in an heartbeat!  The seat training/orientation, the mini-physical, strapping in – I savored every bit of it!  Then when the air conditioner began ‘spitting’ at me on takeoff I was in Hog Heaven!  When the sweat began running down into my eyes I just let it sting, lest the experience escape me once again.

When I was given the opportunity to fly my IP asked me if I remembered how to perform a Loop.  (For perspective, I had been flying ’38s when this major was still in liquid form!)  I couldn’t find the G-meter in the new cockpit configuration (T-38C), so I flew to the ‘tickle’ and help it over the top.  It worked out fine, and so it went.

The hour just flew by and soon we landed.  As we taxied in we punched off the intercom and dropped our masks.  I took a moment to reflect – to just “be’ with it all, and I found myself in prayer.  I thanked God for having had the opportunity to fulfill a childhood dream of flying, for the realization that, at one time, I wasn’t too bad at it, and for not hurting anyone – myself or anyone else.

When I retired from the Air Force on 15 Jul 1988 I left somewhat ‘unsettled’ with respect to my flying career.  I could never quite put my finger on it, but on this date, 26 May 2006, I climbed out of the Jet “complete.”  I was at Peace…

Terry, I also ‘stuck my hands under Mike Webster’s butt one more time!



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WW Fog…

We had a UPT student at Vance, Class 76-09, named “W.W. Fog” – good kid.  One day in the flight room he answered the phone in a smart, military fashion as he had been taught.  After a short pause he announced to those of us in the room, “This guy wants to talk to any student.”

We were all kind of perplexed until someone gained composure and told him, “Go ahead and take it!”  Shocking exchange, it was; left us all somewhat perplexed.

From that day forward he was known to us as “WOXOF…”

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Over the past 18 months, or so, I have been remiss in writing.  There has been SO MUCH that has transpired.  I met a wonderful woman, began an exciting courtship, bought an RV, began a MAJOR home renovation, got married and am now finding myself with a bit more time to write.

I never knew how much I missed writing; I never knew how much I enjoyed writing – so brace yourself!  I have a great deal to share with you….

Cheers!  Bob


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A Promise Kept….

Just after I got sober in 1994, I made a promise to myself – to one day return to Ramey AFB, Puerto Rico – to the church I was confirmed in.  From the summer of 1957 to the summer of 1960 I attended Lutheran catechism in that church every Saturday, and for the last year, every Thursday and Saturday.


On the day of my confirmation Chaplain Baumgaertner told us that many would leave the church.  I remember that so vividly, and I remember sitting there imploring upon God that it wouldn’t be me… but, it was.

And so, that promise I made to myself back in 1994 or so, became very important to me; for it was the Lutheran Church (here in Whitehouse, OH) that I initially turned to for help when I decided to get sober.

Last week (June 15 – 21, 2015) I took the opportunity to attend an ‘All-classes School Reunion’ at Ramey.  However, my primary objective was more ‘spiritual’ in nature than anything else – to return to that church, hit my knees and give Thanks to God for saving my life.

On Tuesday, 16 Jun, 2015, before anything else, Carolyn and I went ‘walk-about’ on base to find that church.  And after a bit of time, we found it.  It isn’t a church anymore – it’s a school.  But you know what?  It will always be a church for me!

As we walked along that morning I felt myself  becoming more and more ‘anxious,’ as if I were returning home.  And I suppose I was.  As we walked on the sidewalk I first caught glimpse of what I thought used to be the church, and it was!


And it became even clearer the closer we got.


We walked around a bit, then I found a way in.  There was no one around to ask about going in, but I have always found ‘forgiveness’ easier to receive than ‘permission.’  So, in we went.

It hardly looked like a church inside, the only resemblance were the remaining pews.


But you know, that was good enough for me.  And after a while, I approached the general area I remember sitting in that day – the day I was confirmed – and I ‘hit my knees.’

As I kneeled there, I reflected on how blessed I truly am – and the tears flowed.  Tears of joy; tears of gratitude; tears of humility…






And then I spent time asking for strength to continue on this wonderful journey I am on today… and giving “thanks” for the opportunity to keep a promise made…

IMG_0472So my trip to Ramey was a great experience for me; way beyond the reunion itself, the food, the beaches and everything else… And for this, I am so grateful.

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