Parades and other formations

A week or so ago, Sarge made the pronouncements that this blog site was designed by Forrest Gump.

Then he proceeded to discuss an unusual melange of subjects to include marching in parades while in the AF.  Although not unheard of, parades are fairly rare once a person finishes training and enters "active" active duty.

However, some things are up to the whims of the Commander and what the Commander wants the Commander gets.  Even if it does screw up the training for the Mission of the Air Force ("Fly, Fight and Win! Don't you ever forget it!).  As has been discussed at great lengths on this blog as well as others, some people in positions of authority put that mission way behind other priorities such as, say, the advancement of their careers.

Which brings us to parades.  Being a product of ROTC, and not, say, the Colorado School for wayward Boys and Girls, parades were not an every week event.  We marched at a few events, primarily the Detachment Change of Command and an occasional Corps event.  I was on the drill team (Sabers were our weapon), so did a little bit more than others.  The only time we marched with any regularity, say daily, was at ROTC summer camp. 

4 weeks of pure hell restricted living, up at 0600, run a mile and a half, chow, morning formation which included marching, some class, chow, afternoon formation, which included some marching, some class, evening chow,  some other make work activity, then light's out. Rinse and repeat.

These are actually basic trainees at Lackland, but there was really nothing different about our uniforms at the time, no rank, no insignia.
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During that time, we had to memorize the sequence and exact pronunciation of each command in the Pass in Review process.  It was a specified number of commands that got everybody from slouching around in a general gaggle to the point where they passed in front of the dignitary resembling Roman Legions.  The Air Force was so adamant about its usefulness to an Air Force Officer, they published a 119 page regulation on it. Read it and weep sleep.

I recovered that area of brain where that information was stored, very shortly after commissioning, and didn't have need for it until I got to Holloman as an IP.  Shortly after I arrived, the Air Force restructured the base, which had 3 wings (49TFW -F-15s, 479TFTW -AT-38s and the Test Wing - all sorts of airplanes).  Needing jobs for General Officers, else they might not be able to keep them, they created an Air Division and put the Wing Kings under him.

Needing something to do, the new Commander promptly set out to make sure his Air Division was kept "ship shape and Bristol fashioned".  Not really needed as the F-15s were quite proficient at "Eagle-ing" and the AT-38s were training their fledgling fighter pilots without issues and the Test Wing was, well, "testy".  

But clearly something needed to be done!  Because, after all, He was the commander.

So, he instituted a new policy, the first and third Thursday of every month there would be a ceremony for to hand out awards, retire folks, and generally show that the general was in charge.  One of the 7 flying squadrons (The test wing, not being a TAC resource was somehow exempt) would set up the parade.  The Flying Squadron and the Maintenance units would provide the personnel.

It would be a grand and majestic sort of thing.

Oh, and the Squadron in charge would also do the flyover.  

So not only, did they have to march, they had to generate 5 sorties (4 plus spare).  So 10 maintenance guys, plus a supervisor and assorted other maintainers, plus 5 pilots, plus 1 ground observer to coordinate arrival time, were unavailable for the parade.  However, the oporder (yes, I'm not kidding there was an operations order laying all this out) specified a minimum number of persons in the parade.  Which usually could only be met by borrowing persons from another unit.  "Hank, I'm short 5 guys for the parade this week? Can I borrow them from you?  I'll repay you at the next parade."

It's now our first turn in the barrel.  We're out there in front.  The boss and First Sergeant out in front with one of the Enlisted from Life Support as the Guidon bearer.  We've marched into position without too much issue.  A couple of change steps at the beginning, but not so much as you'd notice.  Squadron Halt, Left Face, At Ease all went without problem.  

We're standing there, in the dry Holloman heat of a nice August afternoon, trying not to perspire so as to ruin our uniforms as the Commander and assorted dignitaries conversed in his Air Conditioned office.  Finally, they deign to mount the review stand.

The boss, calls us to attention, and proceeds to issue the commands to reform the formation.  Attention, Right Face, Dress right Dress.  Left arms shot out, heads cocked 45 right.  A bit of shuffling to get everything straight. Then a pause.........

Pause......

I crank my eyes as far left as they can go, to see the boss with a look of terror on his face.  

He can't remember the next command!

Pause....

Arm's starting to get a little heavy.

Finally, I see him take a deep breath and then barks

"Put your ARMS ----Down!

A couple of hundred arms smacked down with the sound of one.

Flexibility, thy name is Fighter Pilot.

At another Parade later on in my Holloman career, the Commander issued an edict to the boss that he'd noticed that the flyover's lately had been a little lax in both timing and formation.  He said that this flyover had better look like the Thunderbirds and be on time.  He was going to fine the boss $1 per second early or late over the review stand.

So it is written, so it shall be.

The boss comes in to my office and shows me the directive to "look like the Thunderbirds and be on time".  I said I could be on time, no sweat, but what did the boss want me to do to "look like the Thunderbirds"?  He just smiled...

Lord, did I have some good bosses.

So, being the Squadron Scheduler, I had a bit of power to build my formation with whom I wanted.  

I gathered the 6 of us in a briefing room and told them what the plan was.  Offered them an out, but none took it.

The day arrives and we're briefing it up.  We've computed the timing from the Tule Peak, a small hill 13 miles north of the runway and our initial point (IP), down to the second, with make up speeds for early or late.  

13.56 miles = 1 minute 56.2 seconds to be precise (oops 7 miles/min not 6)

We WILL be on time.

The day arrives and we take off and head out to a close in practice area where we warm up with some mild finger tip formation maneuvering.  The spare flies nearby to critique the formation spacing and uniformity.  

Fully warmed up, we move into the final formation for the flyby and practice a bit while, again, the spare critiques spacing.  

We then proceed to the IP and loiter in a loose formation while contacting our ground controller for final approach clearing.

He gives us the 30 second warning, which tells us when to depart the IP, I rock the formation into position, and clear the spare off.

We are right over the IP as the Ground Controller says cleared.  This is going to be good!

I give a slight wing rock and #4 moves into position.

I feel the slight nose down pressure as he arrives under my tail.

Timing is perfect and what I can see of the formation is perfect.

Look like the Thunderbirds? Aye!
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We arrive over the review stand at 420k approximately 500' in the air and on time.  

Exit the general area, shake the formation out, reenter the traffic pattern and land.  

Taxi, shutdown and debrief were normal.

The boss buys the beers for the debrief.

We arrive at the Club and are having a salutary round of beers when I feel a hand clamp my shoulder.

It's the Commander.

"Do you know what you did?"

"No Sir"

"You were a second late! Cost your commander a dollar!"

"Here, let me pay it for him" as I slapped a buck on the bar.

He later made three stars, but retired with 2.  Only General officer I've ever gotten on gun camera film with the pipper on the cockpit.  He was in an Eagle, I was in an AT-38.

Unfortunately, I'm recovering from a bout with "La gripe".  My wingman, Schmedly, who usually takes care of the editing of my posts, today volunteered to take care of my napping duties instead.  However, I am now going to recommence those duties.