Ah, Lieutenants ...

US Air Force Photo (PD)

So yesterday the topic of goofball second lieutenants came up. Not all lieutenants are idiots, just as all who wander are not lost ...

(Source)

Okay, so a lot of lieutenants seem pretty clueless to an old crusty noncom. At least those who haven't been raised right. That is, there are lieutenants who have good sergeants, and listen to them, and there are lieutenants who have bad sergeants or perhaps don't listen to their sergeants. I'm not saying that sergeants are the backbone of the service ...

Well, yes, actually I am.

(And for you nautical types, substitute ensign for lieutenant and petty officer for sergeant.)

So what does all that have to do with the opening photo? Glad you asked.

Back in the (mostly) forgotten past, I was a young airman on Okinawa. Wet behind the ears and still pissed off that the Big Blue Machine sent me to Okinawa and not Germany. (Yes, I learned later that that fate was serendipitous. I met and married The Missus Herself during that Asian odyssey.) I marveled at some of the younger officers, I would say (for juvat's sake) the non-flying younger officers, but I did meet a few flying lieutenants who were every bit as goofy as their non-rated counterparts. (One young 1Lt WSO, upon seeing the radar package in the nose of F-4D Phantom for the first time, remarked at how complicated it looked. His pilot, a fairly senior captain, apologized for his back-seater's ignorance. We thought it great fun.)

So, there I was ...*

We were having an exercise at Kadena Air Base on the sunny island of Okinawa, now a part of Japan, once an independent kingdom. We had been rousted from our barracks at some ungodly hour of the morning by screaming sirens. Said sirens telling one and all, "throw your uniform on and get thee hither to your place of duty." My place of duty was the avionics shop of the 18th Avionics Maintenance Squadron (AMS - for such was it known at the time, the Air Force likes to rename things every few years, just to keep the generals employed at something other than making uniform changes, yeah McPeak, I'm looking at you).

In the great divvying up of shifts, I had had the great misfortune to be stuck on day shift, 0700 to 1900, for during exercises we went to 12-hour shifts, no days off. Misfortune because the sirens had gone off at 0400, so I was looking at a rather long day. Most of my mates had gotten tagged to work nights, so they were sent back to barracks where they could return to their slumbers.

Lucky me.

Anyhoo, I was standing outside the chief's office (that's an E-9 to you other services, we only have one chief in the Air Force, Chief Master Sergeant that is) awaiting something to do, rather awaiting to be told what to do. For so I had learned, "never volunteer." I had also learned that good hiding places are good to have, whilst trying to scurry off to find a place to relax, the chief had spotted me. "Airman, I need you to wait in the hallway outside of my office and relay my orders to the people I need orders relayed to," or something of like nature.

So I awaited the chief's pleasure. As I manned my lonely post, our lieutenant walked in, followed in trail by one of my mates, a rather hirsute young fellow, badly in need of a haircut. How he allowed himself to be out in the daylight, among all the big shots, is something I never figured out. But alas, there he was.

As he passed by, the chief bellowed out, "Goodrich, go get the lieutenant for me!"

So I did, "Sir, Chief wants you."

"What for?"

"Uh, I didn't ask, he's the chief." I said this as I glanced down at my two lonely stripes, chiefs, it should be noted, have eight stripes.

"Well, tell the chief ..."

"Goddamnit Goodrich! Where is the goddamned lieutenant?" We both heard the enraged bull roar of the angry chief from some ten yards away.

"Never mind airman, I'll ask him myself."

I followed the lieutenant back to my post, outside the chief's office, as the lieutenant entered said office. Before the lieutenant could say a word, the chief roared ...

"Lieutenant, did you see Airman Smith's hair?"

"No, what about ..."

"Goddamnit Sir, the man looks like a hippie and you didn't notice his goddamned hair?"

"Uh, well ...."

"Go get Smith and tell him to get his ass into my office! Sir."

"I can tell him that he need's a ..."

"NOW LIEUTENANT! SIR!"

The lieutenant collected Airman Smith and got to watch a masterful performance by the chief as he explained the need to maintain a well-groomed appearance at all times to Airman Smith. The lieutenant also learned not to let the chief notice something wrong before the lieutenant himself could do something about it.

At lunch time I went and got a haircut, because, well, ya know, I wanted to appear well-groomed.

And not piss off the chief.

Aber natürlich.

* SJC