“Switch Hitter”

Posted on 14/11/2011 by Bobo

I discovered a poem a few years ago, written by Dan Quisenberry.  It’s a beautiful poem of baseball, entitled “Switch Hitter.”  I related to it right away; albeit from a different perspective.  I related to it from my experience in the Air Force.

Ever since I first read it I have wanted to “tweak it;” to bring it in line with my Air Force experience.  However I have resisted as I haven’t wanted to “plagiarize” or disrespect Quisenberry’s work.  Then I recalled comments from the ‘American Idol’ judges to certain contestants: “You took that song, and made it your own…”  Ah, ha! 

So, with a deep sense of respect and appreciation for Dan Quisenberry…

Switch Hitter 

i miss strapping on the jet, so much
don’t miss it at all, a pain in the ass

i’ll miss the air force forever, an exotic mistress
burnt out, want nothing to do with it

it’s part of me, an extension of my very being
excise it, numbed, like i was never there

gave all of me to the squadron: head, heart, body, soul
gave nothing to it: nothing at all

the air force was clear, specific, focused
the air force was convoluted, political, consuming

learned so much
discovered nothing

i yearn for the attention, leading a 4-ship across the field
it was all for show, empty stares with no passion

i want a patch that tells me who I belong to
they were all just silly logos of cats and darts and lightning

the engines scream; a song for my soul
i’m a mercenary who seeks serenity

i don’t need another word of it
i’m synonymous with it

i’ve seen enough, heard enough
i wonder if there’s an open jet today?

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Sometimes…

Posted on 12/11/2011 by Bobo

There’s a new Toby Keith song, “Clancy’s Tavern,” that I just downloaded.  Probably best I not listen to it very much…

 

The words really resonate deep within me.  I can “feel” that of which he sings; I have experienced it so many, many times.  I listen to the song and it’s as if it’s a calling.  I know those people.  And if that’s not so bad, the melody is embedded so deep within my soul.

Probably best I not listen too often…

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“Is that Legal, Bob”

Posted on 11/11/2011 by Bobo

As I was going through T-38 PIT the second time, Jul – Nov ’82, I had a flight with the squadron commander; our resident “Reg Reader.”  I don’t know if I would rank him up there with the most motivational commanders I had; but he sure knew the regs!  Damn – page and paragraph!  After you heard him quote an insignificant, obscure reg, about something that had relatively no bearing at all on the primary mission, you couldn’t help but feel that you “had been to the mountain!”  You had “received the word!”  I once heard him explain the reg on flight suit name tags.  Hell, I never knew there was one; nor did I care…

Anyway the day I flew with him, I made the full stop landing on 32R at Randolph.  Nice sunny, early afternoon – calm winds.  As the nose lowered to the runway, I reached in the pin box to retrieve the seat and canopy safety pins.  He must have heard the clanking of them as I pulled them out of their little cubbyhole.  

“Is that legal, Bob” he asked.

“No,” I replied, and nothing more was said…

I don’t know why I chose to install the pins at that particular time during the landing roll; I always had.  Just did.  And continued to do it for my remaining career.  Oh well…

Had to laugh the other day as I was returning home.  I was about 100 feet or so from my driveway and I reached down and released the seat belt on my BMW M3.  “Is that legal?” came to mind, and I began chuckling about it.  Right up until I noticed a cop coming my way!  Nuts!  As it turned out he didn’t noticed, and I ducked into my driveway – still chuckling…

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Mentors

Posted on 10/11/2011 by Bobo

Air Force Regulations and manuals (now ‘Operating Instructions,’ soon to be ‘Suggestions’), spelled out ‘the letter of the law’ when it came to day-to-day operations.  Mentors on the other hand, told us ‘how the cow eats the cabbage.’  I was so fortunate to have worked with great mentors throughout my career.  Some of the best I had the privilege of working with were at Vance AFB, OK when I was assigned to the 25th FTS (Flying Training Squadron), from 1975 – 1978.  

For the most part, they were all mid-level captains, with combat experience.  We had OV-10 guys, F-100 guys, O-2 guys and a Phantom driver with a Mig kill.  All good guys.

From the very beginning I always felt I could approach any of them with any “issue” I might be faced with, and I would get straight, honest answers.  What  more could you ask for?  If I screwed up, they told me.  But they were no way, malicious or vindictive about it.

I remember talking with these guys hour after hour; over coffee and or beer, about T-38 flying, student management and career progression.  I loved these ‘talks.’  And I became a better IP and pilot from them.  Many of the lessons I learned in ’75 – ’76 in those ‘fireside chats’ I used up until the day I retired.     

So this morning, I feel so much “gratitude” for what they taught me.  Sam D., ‘the Burker,’ Jimmy N., Hal, Andy, Jay, Don and perhaps a few others – thank you…

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“God’s Own Lunatics”

Posted on 09/11/2011 by Bobo

This always causes me ‘pause’…

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“He wants to talk to any student…”

Posted on 09/11/2011 by Bobo

One morning the phone rang in the flight room.  2nd Lt. ‘W.W. Fog,’ so named because he was “woxof” most the time, cupped the receiver after answering and announced, “This guy wants to talk to any student.”    What do you say?

(‘WOXOF’ – weather obscured zero visibility and fog.)

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Veterans Day

Posted on 07/11/2011 by Bobo

A couple-3 weeks ago my daughter-in-law asked me if I would like to “submit something,” reflecting on my thoughts on Veterans Day.  Interesting.  So, for what it’s worth…

Veterans Day is a very “personal day” for me.  It’s a day of reflection, a day of gratitude; a day of honoring those who have served and those who are serving.  

Every year about this time I drag out a simple metal bracelet I have.  I don’t wear it often, but I do on 11/11 every year.  It simply says:

04 Arthur S. Mearns
USAF 11-11-66 NVN/KIA

The bracelet I have today is actually a ‘replacement bracelet.’  I had my first ‘Art Mearns’ bracelet in 1967-68 and virtually ‘wore it out.’  

I did not know Major Mearns; yet having served a 20-year career myself, I know him very well.  I was still in college when he was shot down over North Vietnam.  I have no idea why I chose his bracelet; I just did.  In later years I came to learn he had been in my father-in-law’s squadron at the time he was hit, and that my wife used to babysit for his daughters.  Somehow that made his bracelet even more special to me…

About 12-13 years ago I was on my way home from a ‘noon meeting.’  It was a bright sunny day.  I have no idea why the thought came to mind, but all at once there it was: Colonel Samuel G. Porterfield ‘walked through my mind.’           

I did not know Col. Porterfield either; my Mom worked for him as a secretary.  Col. Porterfield was the Vice Wing Commander at Ramey AFB, Puerto Rico at the time.  He and his crew died in a B-52 crash on 1 Feb. 1960; I was 13 years old at the time, and really couldn’t make much sense of it all.  The crash was on a Monday night and that following Friday night I remember the drinking at the Officer’s Club.  (The O’Club pool was just outside the bar at the time, and it was convenient for our folks to drop us in the pool for ‘Happy Hour.’)  I remember a lot of drinking at the time, and again, it made no sense to me…

And then, on that bright sunny day, 12-13 years ago, while west-bound on Garden Road, it hit me:  Colonel Porterfield and his crew gave their lives for me that night!  I had suppressed that thought for so many years; and now here it was, and the tears just began flowing.  I had to pull off the side of the road; I couldn’t see through my tears, and grief.  I cried hard that day – and not just for Col. Porterfield and his crew, but for all those who have sacrificed their lives for me.  Art Mearns, Dick Bong, Raoul Lufbery, Tom Widerquist, and so many, many others.  I just ‘let it out…’       

On the “gratitude” side of the coin, I am so privileged to have served with so many men and women; so many Veterans of  “Honor.”  Everyday people who chose “to serve.”  Whether it be for just 2-3-4 years, or a career, they chose to serve.  

In 1994 I was dealing with a very troubling personal crisis.  Two friends from the Air Force just showed up on my door step – not to “fix me,” but to just be here with me.  One came from Atlanta, GA., the other from Gig Harbor, WA.  I didn’t ask them to come, I couldn’t.  They just came.    

In 2002 my dear friend Mikey looked after my Mother as she was dying, before I could get to San Antonio.  He did it without reservation.  I will always be indebted to him for that… 

Veterans; ‘everyday people,’ yet very extraordinary people.

People occasionally tell me today, “Thank you for your service.”  I acknowledge their kindness, but I am yet uncomfortable with it.  It was my privilege to have served this great nation of ours.  Not everyone chooses to serve, and not everyone “makes it.”  It was truly an honor of mine – to have worn the uniform of the United States Air Force for 20 years!  And I won’t ever forget it…

So, on Veterans Day, I will once again put on Major Mearn’s bracelet.  I will begin my day with a quiet prayer for those of us who have fallen; for those who have now gone before us; and for those of you who continue to serve.  I will go about my day with my head held perhaps a little higher and my shoulders a bit further back.  And a deep sense of pride for having had the Honor of serving with some very extraordinary folks…    

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Because His Name is not ‘Butch,’ Sir…

Posted on 10/10/2011 by Bobo

I was the Supervisor of Flying (SOF) one night as we were closing shop.  There was just me, an airman and our squadron commander in the building at the time.  The airman was busy with securing the area.  I was looking over the schedule for the next day when I saw we needed a check pilot for a final progress check the next day.  These rides were typically flown by either the squadron commander or the operations (ops) officer.  So I called out to our squadron commander, “Say Col. R., do you want to fly this kid’s ride tomorrow, or would you like Grady to fly it?”  Grady was our ops officer.

I don’t recall his reply, but shortly thereafter he called me into his office.  “Bob, ” he began, “we really need to be cognizant about referring to senior officers by their first names,” he began.  At first I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.  He must have seen this reflected in my face, and went on, “You referred to Col. Hawkins as ‘Grady.’  And we have an airman in the building.”

“Oh shit,” I thought to myself.  I was a major at the time; Grady was a Lt. Colonel.  I apologized, and told him it wouldn’t happen again.  He in turn, felt content that he had set my ass straight…

Now; we had another major in our squadron at the time, Craig W., who was well loved and deeply respected by all the ‘grunts.’  Craig was a Section Commander, and he had just been promoted to Lt. Colonel.  It was just after this incident of mine that Craig “pinned on” his new rank.  Soon thereafter we were all down in the Auger Inn one night.

The evening festivities were just beginning.  Craig and I and a few captains were standing around when Lt. Col. R. (our squadron commander) walked up.  On occasion he liked to allow his presence to be felt by “the guys.”  Someone noticed we were getting down to “min beer,” and asked, “Who’s round is it to buy?”

Someone else shouted out, “It’s Butch’s turn!” and Craig headed toward the bar.  “Yay Butch,” was the cry heard from our small group. It was a beautiful setup!

“Why are the guys calling Craig, ‘Butch?'” asked Col. R.

“Because,” I replied, “it’s not his first name, Sir…”

The resulting confused look was priceless; I don’t know if he ever got it…

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Strapping On Jets

Posted on 10/10/2011 by Bobo

My T-38 IP once told me, “You don’t ‘strap in’ a jet; you ‘strap it on.'”  He didn’t make a big deal of it – he just shared this as a ‘matter of fact’ statement.  For whatever reason I knew immediately what he meant.  By “strapping it on,” the jet becomes an extension of your being – and flying it subsequently becomes second nature.

In the beginning strapping on a T-38 is not an easy chore.  It begins with putting on our chutes; our parachutes.  Most of us leave our chutes  propped up against the ladder while doing the preflight walk-around.  Once that is complete, the ‘strapping on’ process begins.

The parachute has to fit very tight.  So tight in fact that when it is fit properly, you look like a guy walking around with “the Full Cleveland.”*  You can not walk upright if your chute is properly fit.  So you kinda ‘crab’ up the ladder into the jet. 

The right leg over the cockpit rail on to the seat pack, followed by the left leg down onto the left floor well.  Once your right leg finds it’s place on the other side of the stick you can settle down on to the seat.  The first thing you notice – right away – is a sense of relief!  Spacers at the back of the seat serve to take a lot of the chute pressure off your shoulders. 

Once you settle into the seat your form-fitted helmet commands your attention.  Some of us would put on our helmets before climbing up the ladder; it was only a matter of personal preference.

Once I settled into the seat, a quick moment to catch my breath was often in order.  Then it was back to the task at hand.  First came my anti-G suit hose connection on the left side, followed by the aircraft oxygen hose and comm cord connections on the right side.  Now I was ready for the lap belt and shoulder harnesses.  It was at this juncture that a crew chief was a great help.

The lap belts, left and right, were set in our laps.  Then the loops from the shoulder harnesses were threaded unto the belt link, followed by the “gold key.”  The gold key was attached to the “zero-delay” lanyard that functioned with your seat.  (It’s purpose was to “arm” your chute for immediate deployment if required.)   Once these three things were on the belt link, they were secured by latching the belt. 

Now it’s time to ‘really’ secure yourself to the seat.  First you jam your ass as far back into the seat as you can.  Then you tighten the lap belt as much as you can stand it; and then you pull a little bit harder.  The excess belt on each side is then tucked under you thighs.  Now you lock the shoulder harness inertial lock lever on the left side of the seat.  It manually locks the shoulder harness straps.  This is where we would take a look at how the shoulder straps were routed.  If they weren’t routed correctly, they could become entangled and trap you to the seat in an ejection.  Not good.

Once the shoulder straps were pulled as tight as you thought necessary, you pulled even harder.  With this done, you could just about reach the inertial reel lock lever to release it. This done, the last step in the “strapping on” process was to lean forward to check for freedom of movement.        

Now you were ready to get to begin “punching buttons”…

One last note here, with respect to “strapping on jets.”  In the early eighties I was part of a 4-ship flight of squadron IPs.  We were being led by a young FAIP (first assignment IP).  The briefing was fairly straight forward, and thorough.  As he concluded, the young FAIP remarked, “Now gentlemen, let’s ‘mount up.'”

“OH, Jesus Christ!” loudly rang out from Polecat.  

“You strap on jets; you mount sheep,” he exclaimed as he walked out of the room, chewing on his cigar, somewhat in disgust…  The FAIP just stood there, dumbfounded. 

Funny as hell!  Glad it wasn’t me who said that…  

*  A “Full Cleveland” is what you see when you see a ‘senior citizen’ in Florida wearing his pants up over his belly, often held up by suspenders.  He is kinda hunched over by nature.  To complete the ensemble the guy will be sporting knee-length black stockings, with black shoes and a while, long-sleeve shirt.  Got it?     

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A Veteran…

Posted on 03/10/2011 by Bobo
A veteran – whether active duty, retired, National Guard or Reserve – is someone who, at one point in his or her life, wrote a blank check made payable to “The United States of America” for an amount of “up to and including my life.”

That is Honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it.

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