The Story of LUSH

Once upon a time there was a young Naval Flight Officer, a lowly Lieutenant, Junior Grade. Not too far removed from the tender loving care of the East Coast Fleet Replacement Squadron (that's the RAG for you purists) VFA-106, the Gladiators. The squadron where those who have earned their wings of gold move on to the next step in their training in the aircraft they will be using out in "The Fleet". The WSO had passed through the RAG and was now an FNG. (Truly, it said so on her name tag!)

So she was now a brand-spanking new member of the mighty Fighting Swordsmen, the much lauded and often envied Gypsies of VFA-32. Those masters of mud moving and aerial combat, those...

(Okay, okay. I'm going for dramatic effect here. Geez!)

So yes, we're talking about The WSO. My youngest daughter, mother of my oldest granddaughter and (as we like to say) the female version of Your Humble Scribe. She inherited my incredible wit, good looks, striking intelligence and extremely loud command voice. (Okay, the looks and the brains she got from her Mom. She also inherited my metabolism. She and I can gain 5 pounds driving by McDonald's. Perish the thought of what would happen should we actually go inside. She is not thankful when reminded of this. She told me so, recently.)

As a bit of an aside, true story, no sh!t, there I was - while Yours Truly was in attendance at the U.S. Air Force NCO Leadership School at Yokota AB, Japan, I was noted (and yes, praised) for my ability to drill the troops. (As in march them around, what were you thinking?) My command voice was impressive. Much honed over the years of calling for my brothers in the woods of my native Vermont. So powerful was this voice that one day I was drilling my flight when an instructor from another group came over and asked me to "tone it down a bit, eh Sarge?" As my commands were also being executed by our sister flight, some 150 yards away, Like I said, powerful.

Now I'm not sure that a young lady would find such a voice to be a good thing. But it never bothered the WSO, nor myself. It does, however, bug the hell out of the Missus Herself. She has indicated that the youngest of the progeny is just too damn loud, at times. But (let's say it together now) I digress.

Now at some point in the life of a Naval Flight Officer or Naval Aviator, there will be that very first trip to Naval Air Station Fallon, in Nevada. Not near Vegas and from what my sources tell me, not near anything!

Ah, Fallon...

Lovely Fallon...

Oh yeah, where was I?

Yes, The WSO's very first trip to NAS Fallon. Air Wing Fallon they call this evolution. Where the young flying types hone their skills. Drink too much and tell each other tall tales. (At least that's how the Air Force does it!) Now bear in mind, this is her first time to NAS Fallon with her operational squadron and this, gentle reader, is her very first night at NAS Fallon.

Out she and her shipmates go. Out to the NAS Fallon Officer's Club to bond and come together as a fighting unit should. From what I was later given to understand, a good time was had by all. From what I was later given to understand, one young Naval Flight Officer had too much of a good time. As she related to me the other day (when the authorization came down from "on high" to release this tale), it was an epic drunk. Truly epic. (She used that word, "epic", multiple times. So I'm guessing it was indeed, epic.)

Apparently, at the close of the evening's festivities (and she's a little hazy on the details here mind you, some of this was related to her second hand) a couple of her squadron mates transported her safely back to the Bachelor Officers' Quarters (BOQ) as she was, shall we say "intoxicated", "three sheets to the wind", "in her cups", "blasted" and, well I think you get the point.

Trouble is though, she was incapable of navigating from the lawn of the BOQ to her actual room. Later that same evening, she was awakened by base security and ambulance folks who were somewhat concerned with her condition. Sleeping as she was on the lawn of the BOQ. Rather covered in vomit (no one said this tale would be pretty!)

Now there may be some of you who are horrified by this tale of drunkenness and sleeping on lawns. But in many ways it was a rite of passage for The WSO. But, as you may well imagine, there were consequences from that "epic" evening.

The WSO's squadron mates had their butts handed to them for not ensuring that the FNG made it all the way to her room. The CO was most displeased with all of the parties involved. But he had some special consequences for The WSO, seems she was banned from the O-Club for the remainder of the squadron's time in Fallon. There was no "official" fall-out from that night. As there shouldn't have been, no harm, no foul and there were lessons learned all around.

On the other hand, The WSO was now accepted as "one of the guys". Now I know some of the ladies might find that distasteful. "One of the guys? I'm a lady, I'm not one of the guys!" However, the military is still very male-oriented. One cannot change hundreds (if not thousands) of years of tradition overnight. For The WSO she was now truly a member of the squadron. She still cherishes that moment when the male Gypsies told her that. She was no longer a chick in a flight suit, she was a Gypsy.

It was shortly thereafter that The WSO got to turn in her FNG name tag and was given one with her actual name and rank. Also she received another new name tag, one every aircrewman has. What in the Air Force would be called her "party" name tag. This one simply had the following embroidered under her wings of gold:

LUSH

One word, all caps (to steal a phrase from the master himself) which stands for (drum roll please) -

Little Unconscious Sh!t Head

And that's how the Old AF Sarge's baby girl got her call sign.

Oh yeah, and at the in-brief the morning after? Let's just say that The WSO got tired of everyone commenting to her (in very loud voices) -

"Gee, LUSH, did ya know ya smell like vomit?"

What every lady wants to hear.