As part of an intricate plan, the Navy's carriers were
pulled south. We were launched to provide "barcap" (barrier
combat air patrol) northeast of Hanoi. Almost continually during
this mission, we were directed to engage hostile radar contacts.
(We were later told they were MiG-19s.) But, no matter how hard
we tried, we were never able to get within the maximum range of
our radar missiles. We were further frustrated because we were
not allowed to chase them down into Red Chinese airspace where
they always sought sanctuary.
What was even more worrisome at the time, though, was
every time we turned back toward the tanker for needed aerial
refueling, the enemy fighters would immediately turn back toward
us. I remember thinking what a hell of a note to get shot off
of the refueling boom. Because of this, we were only slightly
distracted by an unbelievable "fireworks" display near
Hanoi (learning later the true significance of the Vietnamese
antiaircraft reaction to the prison raid).
Anyway, this cat-and-mouse game continued for almost
5 hours! (We logged 7 hours on the flight.) I was the flight leader,
and I'm still amazed my wingman was able to hang on "fly
formation" for that long at night. And I'll never forget
logging 12 hours of combat time (including three additional missions
back to North Vietnam) in an F-4 in a 24-hour period!
Sea-borne Ravens!
The first combat trials of the Navy's highly-modified A-6 SAM-suppression jets occurred at none other than Korat Royal Thai Air Force Base.
Late in 1970, four of these strange-looking, bulbous-nosed stark-white jets flew out of Korat, alongside the F-105G Wild Weasels, which they were designed to operationally mimic. Unlike the 105s, they were unarmed; their four-man crew was along to observe tactics, test the newly-installed ECM and RHAW gear ( which was identical to that in the Weasels ), and check out the
enemy's way of doing things.
The crews came through our debriefing, just like all others - but never reported a single discrepancy during their three-month-or-so stay. ( Navy pride ? Dunno. They never fixed anything, either - so maybe it never broke ! )
It wasn't until years later, that I found out these jets didn't become operational in the Navy until a year afterward. The four we had attached to the 388th were evidently the first of their kind.
Train like you'll fight.
Back in the days of the Shah, the US looked to Iran to be both a thorn in the Russians' side ( they shared a border with the USSR ) and a strong defender of the militarily-weaker nations of the Persian Gulf. That's why we sold him front-line fighters, such as the F-4D/E and the F-14. ( We also sold him the only two KC-747s ever made; Iran was the only small nation ever capable of global in-flight refueling...)
Once, a squadron of E's from Hahn went TDY to Shiraz, Iran, to help train the IIAF in repelling sea-borne threats to the Gulf region. ( A Bitburg detachment of F-15s also participated. ) The threat: a US Navy carrier task force.
Perhaps it was a failure of operational security: almost anyone who cares,
knows how the Navy operates. Everything is based on defense of the carrier, with multiple concentric "layers" of defensive craft encircling the big boat.
Like SAC's refusal to alter target approaches in the Christmas bombings of 1973, the Navy didn't learn with the first losses - and suffered defeat.
The AF doesn't do a lot of Public Relations about it's tactics beforehand;
maybe that's why we simulated "sinking" the carrier successfully. Twice a day...for ten days straight.
Flying out of Shiraz was a considerable bomber force of F-4s, some of which were armed with TGM-65 Maverick Training missiles. ( Which recorded, time and again, the faces of surprised carrier crewmen on TV, as a fleet of anti-ship
missile and bomb F-4s swept over their craft, some daring to fake an emergency landing on the carrier's deck...hook down, landing lights on, they would pour it on just a few feet away from the carrier's deck, turning the plane's belly to the tower, so the tail number couldn't be recorded. )
The Task Force Commander was SMOKING - but it would take a couple of weeks for the faint "reprimand" to work its way down to the field..
The initial war game went like this: an F-15 air superiority "protector", with his
distinctively-powerful shoot-down radar, would preceed the bombers toward the ships at higher altitude, hoping to encounter the Navy's first line of air defense, their F-14s. ( With radar pumping, he couldn't be overlooked. ) The F-14 interceptors were soon maneuvering for a snap-up shot at the Eagle.
As soon as they lined up, focused on the F-15, TWO A/A-loaded F-4Es popped up from the waves on the swabbies' tails, and smoked the F-14s. ( They sent the Naval Air Wing commander both their radar and gunsite films as proof.) The bombers then proceeded on to the target, unimpeded by airborne defense. The F-14s launched against them lost every one of the
encounters, going for the ( decoy ) prestige target, and being "downed" by an older - though no less-capable - jet, wave-top riding F-4Es.
( Each time, at least one attack F-4 made it through the simulated sea-based missiles and gunfire to complete a "lethal" attack on the carrier. )
It had to be a failure of flexibility in operational plans; Navy aircrews are excellent pilots; they're much better than their poor showing off Iran against
the F-4/F-15 team.
Surprise ! - You're it !
There's an old Chinese curse that goes: "May you live in exciting times...". Sometimes, the AF does its part to ensure it.
A Weapons Training Deployment ( WTD ) isn't the most exciting TDY in the world - and this trip to Incirlik AB, Turkey was worse than most. ( Standard WTDs routinely occurred in Zaragoza, Spain; at least it had some nightlife and always had a low-stakes blackjack game going in the barracks. The Turks were mad at us - for bad-mouthing their invasion of Cyprus - and went
out of their way to make things difficult on base. )
We were flying the standard WTD practice bombs against the Turkish Bombing Range, when one night, the word came down: perform preload AWM-20 ( Aim-7 radar missile ) tests on EVERY jet, prior to the morning.
What !?! Not only was this out of place in a WTD ( training missile shoots only happened off Florida, where the telemetry gear can track them ) - but we weren't set up for this. We had only a small number of AWM-20 testers with us ( solely to check the stations after an unscheduled engine change; this forced the launchers' removal and reinstallation ), and we could field only three crews to do it.
More strange: the permanent-party people assigned to the backwater Incirlik WCS shop - which normally MIGHT see a dozen bad parts a year, between
pinochle games - were detailed to help us on the line. They broke out their
WRM spare test equipment to do so ( very rare ), and even rounded out their AWM-20 crew with a former F-4C WCS toad who had somehow wangled
an overseas tour as their Precision-Measurement Equipment Lab man.
Before morning, they were finished; but something was definitely up - for a couple of those jets would fly with only three stations loaded; repairs on the
faulty stations weren't permitted.
The load toads formed up a convoy to extract the "stored-for-war only" AIM-7s and -9s from the MSA - and were met by armed Turks, including the Turkish Base Commander - who refused access to our own munitions ! Was this a "lockdown" of US assets, as occurred during the Cyprus invasion ? ( At that time, the Turks even took over the US command post, so we couldn't blab about their doings...but they forgot the M.A.R.S radio station. The thing they sought to hide went out on shortwave - IN THE CLEAR - all over the world for anyone to hear...)
A lot of handheld-radio traffic later, the whole mission idea was scrubbed by
HQ/USAFE. We didn't know it then, but we did a few days later: the Shah had
been booted out of Iran. Our aborted mission was to have been to provide safe fighter cover for his exit from Iran - via a mad dash across hostile Syria ( 40 km from Incirlik ) and Iraq. The Moslem world - of which Turkey is a "westernized" part - didn't want to chance upsetting his ouster: the Ayatollah Khomeini.
Your wish is my command !
In TAC, the name of the game is the mobility exercise. You are recalled, bags in hand, to pack up all of your equipment, to process through an admin line, then sometimes onto a cargo jet, which taxies once down the runway; end of exercise. These are somewhat rare in USAFE or PACAF - so they get your attention when it happens.
Hahn's 50th TFW ( which was quickly getting a reputation as the "can-do" outfit in Europe - I know...having been assigned to three major units there )
pulled a quickie mobility. But spooky things immediately started happening
which clued in the troops. Women had been strongly integrated into the service by this time; under POMO, their help would be sorely missed if they disappeared. They were pulled out of the processing line, leaving only the men.
Gulp ! At that time, women were still prohibited from combat. Is that significant to this mobility ? You couldn't tell from the orders they printed up on the spot...the "Location assigned to" block was empty.
It turned out that the exercise DID result in actually going someplace, a "bare base", where the squadron flew a fairly-relaxed sortie schedule, pretending to provide the sole air defense of a smallish nation. It was over in four days. The women were excluded because there were no suitable accomodations for them in this Moslem nation, unused to women in the military. ( No, it wasn't Saudi Arabia.. or any of the Gulf States. )
The point of it all: The State Department had been negotiating with this country's monarch for some accomodations: pre-positioned material, access to entry points and airfields in case of conflict, that sort of thing. In return, we offered air defense: if necessary, we could have a squadron flying there within 48 hours. The answer: "Make it so ! I'll expect them here within two days - THEN we'll talk."
Naturally, USAFE units are a lot closer, so Hahn went instead of TAC. We must have satisfied the ruler - for he shook the hand of every man deployed - and a decade later, his nation was an important staging area for material in the Gulf War.
A/A LGBs ?
It's one of the few real yarns to come out of the extremely short-lived Gulf War of 1990: like most, there are two versions - the one known to the public, as distributed in an AF press release, and in correspondent's reports; and the one known by the troops.
The official version of this story is that an Iraqi helicopter was downed by an AIM-9, fired from an F-15E. However, the troops consistently tell a different story.
Time after time, the same tale is told: the helicopter was shot down by a laser-guided 500-lb. bomb, intentionally fired from the F-15, to do just that.
Hot tuned AIM-7s
The old AIM-7E-2 aligned its radar receiver to the launching aircraft's signal using a mechanically-tuned klystron tube. This was just like twisting the dial on a conventional radio - except a tiny motor moved the dial, and stopped when the signal was found. ( Later 7F's are solid-state and tune immediately via electronic means. )
It was important to make sure each missile would "tune" prior to flight; while there were many reasons the airplane could be at fault, very often the missile's mechanism just hung up. This mechanical glitch could be overcome with a little "simulated G-force" applied to the guidance-and-control
section.
It's no wonder that folks on the line thought WCS troops were strange: why else would they often be seen lying on the ground beneath a live, powered-up 480-pound missile, kicking the crap out of it - and sometimes smacking it with a wooden wheel chock ?
Breaking an AIM-7
WCS troops always worked in pairs. Often, one member of the team was a 3-level A1C, straight out of tech school. During a hot tune, the senior man took the front seat, with the jeep running the radar in the back. ( Normally, he was stuck in the front cockpit, just observing the radar tests his senior partner performed. )
So when the command came to "go down and smack the Left Aft missile", the "new guy" complied. When told to "hit it harder", he'd take out a ball-peen hammer, and go to work on the ceramic nosecone of the missile - where he
thought the control unit was located.
It would shatter like a dinner plate. If he was lucky, he wouldn't damage the missile antenna. After the war, USAFE had enough of this: aircrews would hot tune during a Zulu-alert preflight. ( Misguided; who clicked the cockpit switches wasn't important, for the WCS troops still did the missile-smacking if there was a problem.) TAC - which rarely loaded live missiles anyway - demanded that only hot-tune certified NCOs perform the check.
Ground-fired AIM-7
A "nameless" individual I once knew made the mistake of running an APM-282 check ( Missile computer functions/launch tester ), on the left forward station without checking for loaded missiles on board. ( Both aft stations had live AIM-7s.)
The first test ran normally. ( Left forward is the first missile fired, and the 282 simulated a loaded missile on that station.) On the next check, re-tuning was
accomplished, the radar locked on to a test target, the SAFE/ARM and MASTER ARM were engaged, and the trigger pulled.
The 282 didn't work - but the AIM-7 functioned as designed. Luckily, there were no ejection carts in the launcher ( he forgot to check that, too ) - because the ejection foot must push the missile fins clear of the jet before the rocket motor fires.
However, the electrical and hydraulic power squibs in the AIM-7 blew, spitting smoke and hydraulic fluid all over the ramp. EOD made the missile safe again, once it had cooled enough that it could be touched.
This sort of thing happened a number of times, throughout the history of the F-4. AWM-20 testers and APM-282s were missiles, as far as the plane was concerned.
Falcon = Useless
The Air Force should have learned the first time: name something "Falcon", and it is guaranteed to be a loser. The AIM-4D was intended to extend the range of IR missiles by using the radar to put it in the neighborhood of the target, hoping it could acquire an IR lockon when it got close.
In VN, the only thing it acquired was the name, "$40,000 turn signal" - because that is exactly what a MIG would do when the AIM-4 flew harmlessly past the bad guy.
Even the test set was an obvious inside joke among Hughes developers: when it checked "good", a bank of test lamps would display a huge question mark !
Fortunately, PACAF had enough sense to reverse-modify their jets so that they could accept the old reliable AIM-9 instead of AIM-4Ds. Eventually, all commands did the same, and the useless OLD Falcons passed out of the inventory. We'll have to wait for the F-22 before the useless NEW Falcons are trashed.
Don't even blink at a Sidewinder !
The AIM-9 sidewinder is a reliable missile because of it's simplicity. Unlike active-guided missiles, it is simple to fire. it doesn't need a bunch of radar interlocks satisfied before it can be sent on it's way.
Dozens of AIM-9s have been activated while hung on jets parked on the ramp.
One happened at Hahn; the load toads got a call that the left outboard AIM-9 ( which is always first to fire ) had no "growl" tone. They dutifully downloaded both left-side missiles from the rails, and hooked up the test set.
The first test went well; the missile simulator armed right up, and got firing voltage right on time. The second test, on the left inboard, had similar good results. Once more time, they thought...so they moved the tester back to the outboard - not realizing they had just completed the first two normal firings of a four-missile load.
The third try definitely wasn't a charm, for the airplane worked as advertised, sending fire signals to the next missile in firing order: the right
inboard station - which contained a live AIM-9.
Fortunately, the AERO-3B launcher was pinned, and the missile never left the jet. It did, however, blow the semi-explosive squibs which supply power for it's short flight.
Wet Boresight
Long ago, as a 3-level A1C, I had the distinct pleasure to fire the F-4E nose gun.
MacDill AFB had a "gun butt" - a roofed, three-walled concrete bulding half-filled with dirt. In an all-day process, a jet would be towed in front of the gun butt, and chained down. ( Much more complicated than the chains used on the engine trim pad; huge chains inside sections of old fire hose were passed
across the rear cockpit, and fastened to the ground. )
The jet was slowly raised on the three large jacks, until the installed datum fixture telescope crosshairs lined up on the plywood target inside the butt.
( It was the same shape we used to boresight the gunsight, but the bottom
section was covered with new burlap, containing a spray-painted "X" for a
target in the conventional place.)
Then the chains were tightened; the gunsight and gun barrels were both
boresighted to their respective aim points on the target. Finally, the huge
hydraulic mule was fired up, and the WCS powered up. We were ready to shoot - and it was late in the day. The call was made back to OPS, to get a pilot out to fire the gun. ( Required by regulation. We were in Tampa ! )
However, they had all left for the day ! The sun was going down - and the DCM was tight-jawed: it can't wait until tomorrow - the jet has to fly in the morning ! Somebody pull the damn trigger !
We drew straws and I "won". ( Looking back - this was a smart move, letting the kid take the fall if something goes wrong...) The gun was loaded with only 25 rounds, all that was needed to make sure it shot straight. Raise the red flag. Armament Safety Override: Depressed. Gun:selected. Gun:armed. Master ARM: to "Arm". Deep breath...Squeeze trigger.
B-R-A-A-A-A-P !..the foghorn-like sound of an M61A1 Gatling Gun on "low rate" resounds across the base...my pantlegs flap around my calves, reacting as each one of those foot-long cartridges spits a 20mm TP Ball into the dirt...and the nose of the plane rises a good ten inches, straining against the chains.
Dense gray smoke enshrouds the nose of the jet, and takes a really long time to drift away. The dust and smoke inside the gun butt hides the target for a very long time - minutes. Finally, it clears enough to see that we have torn a six-inch circle in the burlap, with a few "spin-up" rounds outside of that, spiralling inward.
It was the first of three times that I was really impressed during my AF career.
Tom Eide - the only WCS troop who can't go out in the rain.
Tom Eide ( whom I worked with at a number of locations ) is fond of telling this story, any time someone asked about the Frankenstein-style scar that runs across the middle of his nose, from one side to the other...
The trip across the Pacific from Travis is quite an ordeal. In most cases, the
man has had a last - usually drunken - night out in his home town before he
"went off to war". Usually, this night of little sleep is followed by a long, trans-continental flight to San Francisco, followed by a slow bus ride up the California coast to Travis AFB.
Once at Travis, he finds the old "hurry-up and wait" theme of Basic training is alive and well in MAC: it will be twelve hours or more before his flight boards, and all of it will be spent in the terminal. There is no barracks space available for unaccompanied men - especially those within 12 hours of boarding.
Finally, the plane takes off: a B-707 or stretch DC-8 with every seat occupied - and there is no "first class"; Airman Basic or Colonel, they all sit in the same
arrangement through the 22-hour flight. Travis to Honolulu to Wake to Clark to South East Asia. The sun is in the sky for all of the entire 22 hours. By the time you land, you have been up for three days straight.
So it was that Tom Eide landed at DaNang - a place known throughout the AF fighter business as "rocket city". [ Nakhom Phanom RTAFB, on the Thai/Laotian border received more hits - but it wasn't talked about. ] The incoming briefing was ignored since most folks sleep-walked through it. But eventually, Tom was led to a cubicle in the barracks, and presented with an empty upper bunk as his own.
The "cube" was small and sparse for an NCO; just a set of bunks, two lockers, a small table with chair, and a floor lamp with an upturned glass shade near the bunk. His guide gave "the new guy" some parting advice - very important
in this part of the world: "If you hear explosions, or the siren going off, get out immediately ! There's a bunker right outside the door of the barracks, and you'll be safe there. Don't try to put on your helmet or vest - or even clothes !
Just "beat feet" for the exit, man."
Tom took off the 1505s he'd been wearing for three days, and climbed up into
the bunk, stubbing his toe on the glass in the floor lamp. He'd have to check with the other guy in the cube about moving that thing somewhere else. He was fast asleep in under ten seconds.
His life might have been different if his guide hadn't tried to impress him with the dangers of rocket attacks - or if he had told Tom of the siren's daily test at noon every day. ( The "old heads" knew that the siren NEVER went off BEFORE an attack; the rockets usually stopped before someone had the presence of mind to turn on the siren. ) Less than 20 minutes after Tom drifted off to sleep, the noon siren started up.
Tom, awakened by the siren, didn't recognize his surroundings immediately
- or why that sound was important. But when he did, he got up from the bed and took off at a run - totally forgetting he was five feet above the floor !
On his way down, he saw the glass shade of the floor lamp closing quickly upon his face. It caught him just under the nose - and his 200+ pounds neatly sliced his nose from his face. ( A mere flap of skin on the bridge kept it attached. )
He was brought immediately to the dispensary, a bloody mess - and was
sat down on stool while they proceeded to sew his nose back on. The SSgt doing the suture-work injected novocaine into the face area, but started working before the anasthetic did. With every pierce of the needle, Tom would flinch - "Ow !". Another stitch: "Ow !". Then another, and another.
Pretty soon, Tom was getting angry; the stitches hurt more than the wound.
Finally, he said something: "Ow ! Dammit - wait till the shot begins working, will you ?" The response: "Aw, quit your bellyachin'...one more peep out of you, and I'll sew it on upside down - and you'll never be able to go out in the rain again !!"
To this day, Tom Eide bears the distinction of being the only WCS troop in the world to have cut off his own nose with a lamp.
A1C Fischer didn't look the part either.
( I worked with MSgt Fischer at Ramstein's 86TFW/MAQ office in 1983/4. It took quite a few beers before he finally told us how he obtained an Airman's Medal at Korat, 16 years earlier...)
Airman First Class Fischer was an AMMO troop, working at the Munitions Storage/Assembly area. One day, he was approaching the gate ( where a
bored Security Policeman was on duty ), when he noticed the strange sounds
an F-105 was making overhead. Something was wrong with the engine - and the plane was approaching with a full bomb load.
He saw the plane punch off its external stores: racks full of bombs and three
fuel tanks separated from the plane. He immediately realized that the crew must have been in deep trouble; they had completely missed the "safe" area
provided for dumping munitions - and one MER full of 500lb. bombs was heading straight for the location that he and the gate-guard occupied.
His first reaction was to run off the road, away from the 3000 pounds of explosives heading their way - but the SP didn't see it coming. He had to warn him - and the noise of the F-105 screaming overhead prevented a shout
from being heard. He raced for the guard shack - and toward many hundred thousand pounds of munitions stored in the bunkers nearby.
As he reached the shack, ( screaming out the warning to "RUN !"), so did the
ejector rack containing the bombs. Both men watched in stunned silence as
the rack and six bombs contacted the roadway, bounced, and trailing a spray of sparks, slid past them like a freight train, tearing away the chain-link gate.
"Fisch" was awarded the Airman's medal for risking his life to save another - though the result was comical. He was detailed to sand and repaint the metal exposed on those bombs as they slid along the ground after falling a few thousand feet; they were inspected, then reloaded on a later mission !
Heroism and justice don't always coincide.
( This man, who will remain nameless here, worked for me in the Radar Cal Section at Ramstein. He was a thin man, nearly seven feet tall, and a hero in more ways than one. He was a single father of four, all of mixed black/Asian race. He took care of the kids all day, slept a few hours in the evening, and worked all night. ) Back in the 70's, he was an instrument man, working at Korat's trim pad, which was right near the mid-point of the runway, away from the main base, when tragedy struck.
An EB-66 on emergency landed hard, collapsing one of the main gear, and bursting into flame as it skidded to a stop right in front of the trim pad.
He wasted no time sprinting to the burning wreck, and pulling a man free from the twisted fuselage. He returned to the plane to retrieve another member of the four-man crew, dragging him to safety as well.
As the firemen arrived at the scene, it was determined that he wasted his time: the men he courageously saved were already dead from massive injuries sustained in the crash.
He was awarded an Air Force Commendation Medal for his efforts. This, in the opinion of most people who know the usual criteria for an AFCM, is an
injustice. Typists have been awarded AFCMs for little more than showing up on time during an overseas tour.
Purple Heart : was it deserved ?
( I worked for this guy at one time. He'll remain nameless, too; you'll see why.)
In the early days of laser-guided bombs ( 1967 to about 1972 ), the laser illuminators were huge things; - far too large, costly, and fragile to be loaded
onto a fighter jet. Instead, they were carried aloft by C-119 converted cargo planes; these would slowly orbit the battle area, illuminating ground targets for the fighters to strike.
However, the fragile nature of these early lasers ( and the electronics that pointed them ) often demanded an on-board technician who could keep the
temperamental gizmos operational. So it was that most of these illuminator
missions carried an extra ( non aircrew ) man: a WCS troop.
Even though the lumbering AC-119 could be heard by the enemy on the plains far below, it couldn't be seen at night. However, that didn't prevent the manually-aimed anti-aircraft guns from spitting out a few rounds at the craft. They knew that the prop-plane's sound often preceeded the bombers - and they might get in a lucky shot.
The illumination maneuver was theoretically simple: the plane would be put in a left bank, and the pilot would slowly circle the target, while others coordinated entrance/exit of the fighters to preclude collisions in the dark.
When receiving ground fire, the cargo plane's pilot would immediately roll another 45 degrees or so to the left, placing the bird's wings vertical to the earth; a quick "kick" to the left rudder placed the plane into a steep dive.
It literally "dropped" out of the dark sky, away from the bursting AAA.
So it was that this man lay his arm upon the hot laser power supply as the
plane commenced the violent maneuver to escape ground fire. He sustained a healthy burn to the forearm, which raised a large blister. The burn was treated by the clinic folks upon deplaning, and he was immediately returned to duty. However, the light injury occurred as a direct result of enemy fire.
He was awarded the Purple Heart.
Are they CRAZY, or what ?.
( I worked for both of these nameless men during my first assignments to MacDill. )
They were the best of friends. Close...really close buddies. Close - until
DaNang was hit during a rocket attack.
John was driving the big old Metro van belonging to the WCS shop, and Bob was standing in the open passenger door of the truck when the first rockets
hit. They both saw the impact and explosion of the missile that hit nearest
them. John sped up and started turning to avoid the blast fragments heading
their way.
Just then, Bob yelled: "Damn !", and crumpled to the floor of the van. A red-hot inch-long piece of the rocket's metal casing protruded from his neck, just above the collar bone. There was little blood, and John raced the van to the
hospital.
Bob would be fine; the heat from the sheetmetal cauterized the wound, preventing a lot of blood loss, and nothing vital was damaged. He would be awarded the Purple Heart; it would count for promotion.
When Bob returned to the line in a week or so, John was distant. As time went by, they drew farther and farther apart, eventually arguing over anything, as if they enjoyed hating each other.
Months later, it came to a head during a drunken brawl between the two, at a "short-timers" party. It came out as they slugged away at each other: John was fighting mad because his best friend had beat him out of a Purple Heart that, he thought, should rightfully have been his - if only Bob hadn't
been standing in the doorway of the truck !!
Evidently, it never occurred to John that the rocket could have taken off his
entire head, rather than provide a simple flesh wound.
The case of the TWIN-engine
Stationed at Hahn in the late 1970s, were two special brothers, identical twin MSgts. One was a line chief, and the other ran the Weapons Release Shop. Once in a while, they were called upon to perform an elaborate hoax on cocky "new" pilots.
They both would be outfitted in bunny suits, flashlights in hand. One would hide in the tailcone of an F-4 engine; the other would wait for the crew van to show up...
Upon arrival, he would apologize that the regular crew chief was called away for some emergency - and he was late doing the preflight. Fortunately, he only had one more intake to crawl; the college boy pilot could avoid a late takeoff if he started his walk-around inspection while the older man climbed up and entered the intake. A minute later, the airplane driver would arrive at the tail cone - just in time to see the NCO exit the afterburner. "Looks good, Sir. You're all set to go..."
Leprechaun's Tale
You don't run into very many former football-player fighter pilots. It's a poorly-kept secret: most fighter jocks are little guys. ( There's good
reasons for this. Cockpits are incredibly cramped...and when pulling 10 g's,
a 150-pound man has a decided advantage over one weighing 200. )
Our Quality Control inspection office obtained a new OIC. Like most,
he was an instructor pilot; but this one was a little different: he was very small.
Offices like this often have a "personnel locator" board near the door, where the troops sign in/out, writing in where they are headed. Naturally, the OIC's
name was right at the top.
We noticed that the new boss had to stretch to almost full extension to reach his slot at the top of the board - and decided to "welcome him" to the shop, by
RAISING it an eight of an inch higher on the wall each day, over the course of about three weeks.
After a week, someone "noticed" the boss's difficulty and jokingly asked if he had been pulling too many G's - stuffing his head down inside his shoulders.
By week two, people were stopping him in the hall and asking if something
was wrong; he looked "different" somehow, and they just couldn't place their finger on just what was different.
Week three was the best, though. Someone left him a VCR tape of "The Incredible Shrinking Man" - while another added 3/4ths-inch shims beneath the legs of his desk, and screwed his office chair all the way down. A third placed a huge dictionary on the seat. By this time, he was "hopping" to sign out, or skipping it entirely.
Finally, someone brought in a tiny child's stepstool, and placed it beneath the board for his use. A fine officer, he simply USED it from then on, and asked if someone would someday help him replace the extension blocks on his auto's foot pedals...
Jammer "Oops !"
An old load toad friend tells the story of loading a shoulder station on a Multiple Ejector Rack ( MER ). He was on the MJ-3 bomb jammer - which can best be described as a very agile, very low-slung "forklift" for bombs, rockets, and missiles. It can maneuver it's lifting surface through 5 ranges of motion,
including roll.
One of the men trying to align the bomb with the MER's hooks was trying to roll the bomb over, 45 degrees or so. At the same time, a second man reached for the remote lift controls, actuating both the roll lever and one which
moved the bomb away from the MER.
In a split second, they all realized what was happening: the bomb would roll right off the jammer, and fall about four feet to the ramp...there would be no stopping it.
The man on the jammer was new, and had no idea what to expect when the
bomb hit the concrete; he couldn't run...he wouldn't even have time to pray; he was only six feet away from the impending impact point.
So he placed his hands over his ears, and shut his eyes real tight. ( ! )
This is a WHAT !?!
Most fighter personnel know that those old "Air Force - a great way of life!" recruiting commercials are fanciful, to say the least. But some folks - the
"blue suit Air Force", ( finance, personnel offices, etc., with Monday - through - Friday 9-to-5 jobs... ) actually do see it that way.
Except, of course, when they are posted as Sentries or as Maintenance Augmentees, during alerts.
Fuel Tank Build-up is one of those taskings. It is possible to show a "business major" how to mate the aluminum halves together - and some can even be introduced to the basics of using a torque wrench.
But once, an experiment was tried whereby they assisted the AMMO troops.
The tasking was simple: bolt the fin assembly to the rear of a 500 lb. bomb.
At first, it went well. The assorted clerks were actually cranking out good basic bombs. But a "failure to communicate" would soon bring it all to an end.
Nearing the end of Day Two, an NCO was commending a clerk for doing a good job, when the kid remarked: " Gee Sarge - I sure am glad these are just practice bombs"..."Oh ? What makes you think they're practice bombs ?" ( Nervous laughter ) "Yeah, right... they don't pay me enough to play around with dynamite...( sheepishly ) Right ?". "Airman - practice bombs are blue.
The one you've got contains 460 pounds of tritonal - it gives a bigger bang than dynamite. But it's perfectly safe..."
The kid froze, wrench in hand. The NCO could see true fear in the clerk's eyes - and it was spreading among the other augmentees. No amount of explanation would do with this crew. This was safe assembly work - and the troops who weren't scared out of their wits ( at being surrounded by enough TNT to make them a grease spot ) - were incredibly asking if they would be entitled to Combat or Hazardous Duty pay !
I.G. Complaints were filed the next day - and none of the clerks returned to building bombs. ( The complaints were thrown out, of course. )
The Air Force endures a lot of ribbing from the "grunts" ( Army/Marines ) about the AF not really being "in the military". After this experiment with "blue suit AF" troops, it's finally understandable why they could feel that way.
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