The Space Corps

(Source)

The satellite launched from the Asian land mass, known to the U.S. Air Force as Gaofen-12, had been in orbit for a number of months. The Western powers had never detected any energy emanating from it, so everyone assumed that the vehicle had somehow failed once achieving orbit. It was catalogued with all of the other "space junk" and promptly forgotten.

USA-244 had been in orbit since 2013. This bird and its siblings provided secure military communications for the United States, Canada, the United Kingdom, and the Netherlands. The first bird in the series had had some issues early on, but those glitches were soon ironed out.

USA-244 was nearing the end of it's service life, it's replacement was already up and taking on some of 244's communications load. These satellites were essential to communications between higher headquarters and lower level headquarters. Some lower level units also used these birds for their communications. As one admiral had put it, "Without these communications assets, my carrier strike groups might as well stay tied up to their piers."

One morning an analyst at Space Command in Colorado Springs began to notice that Gaofen-12 was starting to show signs of life. It had generated a couple of bursts of random noise over the past few days. She brought this to the attention of her superiors who told her, "don't worry about it, probably just random discharges aboard the bird causing it to transmit noise."

In reality, Gaofen-12 was signaling its home base that it was alive and in position to go to work. On Friday, the 17th of March, home base sent three bursts of highly focused energy at Gaofen-12. Anyone recording that data would assume that it was a self-destruct signal.

And it was. Sort of.

"Sir, I'm picking up a lot of static on the line to Pearl."

Lieutenant Commander Willis "Buck" Owens walked over to the operator's console and asked the petty officer to show him what was up. Which the petty officer proceeded to do. They both listened for a moment and it seemed that the static was getting worse.

"Bad atmospherics?" LCDR Owens suggested. They both chuckled, Tora! Tora! Tora!, was playing on the ship's entertainment system this week. Both had seen it, both were somewhat incredulous at how badly the government had dropped the ball before the attack on Pearl Harbor.

High in space, Gaofen-12 came to life. Two brief bursts from its maneuvering jets moved it onto a collision course with USA-244. At the appropriate time, Gaofen-12 released two small packets of tiny steel balls. These immediately spread out, much like a shotgun blast. After doing so, Gaofen-12's maneuvering jets fired again.

In moments the satellite was dropping out of orbit, soon to burn up upon re-entry into the atmosphere. In Colorado Springs, the overworked, over-tasked office charged with keeping track of the myriad objects orbiting the Earth noted that the signal sent up to Gaofen-12 apparently was a self-destruct of sorts, commanding the satellite to leave orbit and plunge to its "death" upon re-entry.

No report of Gaofen-12's activities was ever filed.

The first few steel balls to hit USA-244 impacted in two places. Some went through a solar panel, causing complete disruption of that panel. The panel was used to help keep the bird oriented properly in space with relation to Earth. The others, which actually hit the satellite, damaged some external shielding and one of the communications antennae. Not enough to put the satellite out of action, but enough to degrade its communications capabilities.

The rest of the steel balls missed completely.

USA-244 began to develop a slight "wobble."

At Joint Base Pearl Harbor-Hickam, Lance Corporal Mitch Higgins noted that the comms output from USA-244 was starting to fluctuate. As if the bird was pointing at them, then pointing away. Not by much, but a little more with each passing minute. He called over his boss, Gunnery Sergeant Isaiah Robertson.

"Damn, that bird looks like it's going flaky on us. How long has this been doing that?"

"About ten minutes now Gunny, and it's getting worse."

At that moment all communications were lost with the Kennedy Strike Group. At that point, the strike group started paying more attention to their organic sensors, passive at first, which were all fairly short range. They no longer had their giant "eye in the sky" data which USA-244 had been providing them.

"Get on the horn to Pearl, I'm blind for the moment, I might need to radiate, and soon."

"On it Admiral!"

USS LeFon*, an Arleigh-Burke class destroyer was the first to detect the incoming "vampires." The Chinese bombers which had launched them had been inbound since USA-244 went offline. They were coming in supersonic when they launched their anti-ship missiles, they wanted to get in and hit the Americans before their sensors were online.

They almost succeeded...

(Source)

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So, do I think a new branch of our military is a good idea, to keep an eye on things in space?

Yes, yes I do.

But I'd be interested in hearing (reading) your thoughts on it. Chase those sources down under the pictures, interesting reading. Especially the bits where certain Congress-critters are upset with their staff wienies for not keeping them informed.





* With a tip of the hat, and apologies, to Claude Berube, who's Connor Stark novels are well worth your time.

Until Next Year

(Source)

The Fourth of July (Independence Day for you "purists") is on the wane as I write this. While the holiday is a pretty big deal in most of the United States, it's huge in the little town by the Bay where I live. No doubt the planning for next year is already underway.

Seems that the town held an event on the Fourth back in 1785, it was popular, so they just kept doing it. According to the Pedia of Wiki -

The annual official and historic celebrations (Patriotic Exercises) were established in 1785 by Rev. Henry Wight of the First Congregational Church and veteran of the Revolutionary War, and later by Rev. Wight as the Parade, and continue today, organized by the Bristol Fourth of July Committee. The festivities officially start on June 14, Flag Day, beginning a period of outdoor concerts, soap-box races and a firefighters' muster at Independence Park. The celebration climaxes on July 4 with the oldest annual parade in the United States, "The Military, Civic and Firemen's Parade", an event that draws over 200,000 people from Rhode Island and around the world. These elaborate celebrations give Bristol its nickname, "America's most patriotic town". In 1785 the Bristol Fourth of July Celebration (beginning as the Patriotic Exercises) was founded and the Fourth of July has been celebrated every year in Bristol since that date, although the parade itself was canceled several times. (Source)

It's a big deal here in town, a really big deal.

Traditionally the Navy has a presence at the parade, even so far as to bring a warship (this year it was the USS Farragut, DDG 99). Often mine own old service is represented with an aircraft belonging to the USAF performing a flyby down the parade route. Sometimes the Army takes that honor with a helicopter or two doing the flyby.

This year it was a C-130 Hercules booming through the skies as low as safety and FAA regulations permit. Which, for an aircraft that size, looks much lower than it really is. One year we had a B-2, all the way from Whiteman AFB out in Missouri, come down the parade route. I was in attendance that year and let me tell ya, a B-2 is big and scary looking, no lie. I would not want to piss one off.

Memorial Park at Whiteman AFB, MO

I don't always go to the parade, which rather chaps the hides of certain locals of my acquaintance. While it is a big deal, and it's really cool and kind of awesome, it is, when all is said and done, a parade. A big one to be sure but it's "just" a parade.

There isn't a big military presence in the parade, a few cannon, some soldiers, some sailors and Marines to be sure. But it isn't a military parade. Those I enjoy, a lot. Especially if I'm not actually marching in it. I did march in this parade one year, decided that once was enough. That's a long route to be sure. Both The Nuke and The WSO have been in the parade when they were in high school as members of the high school band and flag squad (respectively).

The Nuke claims to have gotten turned around after her first parade and walked "all the way to Warren" (the next town over) before noticing her navigational error and returning back to the manse. The WSO and I tend to doubt her story. For which The Nuke chides us yearly.

Oh, the high school band is another huge thing here in Bristol. Truth be told, they are quite good. We don't live very far from the high school and can hear them practicing for the parade most years.

The lead up to the parade can be a great deal of fun. Concerts and such with music for all ages. (Depending on which concert you go to!) As Bristol is a wee sma' town, we can hear the concerts fairly well from Chez Sarge, not oppressively loud, just loud enough to recognize the tune being played, should one pause to listen.

The fireworks are now held on the 3rd of July, which rather bugs the historian in me, but I like the logic of the thing. Hold them on the Fourth, which is traditional, but everyone has to go to work the next day? Or hold them on the 3rd, as a parade-prep, if you will. That way those who tend to do that sort of thing can get good and liquored up while watching the aerial exploding thingies, and not have to go to work the next day. Hungover.

Not that I would know anything about that...

This year was a quiet one for us as none of the progeny or grand-progeny were in town, more's the pity. Having the younger crowd around tends to liven things up quite a bit. Without them around, The Missus Herself and I pretty much lay low and listen to the traditional post-parade police sirens running about the town.

Drunks, hot weather, and explosives don't really mix.

Not that I would know anything about that...

On the Water

Schooner Adirondack II (Source)

The Adirondack II is a gaff-rigged schooner with a wooden hull, and was completed by Scarano Boat Building in Albany, NY. Schooner Adirondack II was completed in 1999, and was brought to Newport Harbor when the original Schooner Adirondack departed Newport to begin operating out of Chelsea Piers in New York City. She is Coast Guard certified for 57 guests. Her masts reach over 70 feet above deck and has just under 2000 square feet of sail area. She is 65 feet on deck, 80 feet overall, and has a draft of 7 feet. On a high wind day, it is not uncommon for her to reach 10 knots under sail. She is a very lively and fast vessel, and all of her captains feel that she is an absolute dream to operate! (Source)

Well, we had expected that The Nuke and the grand-dogs were to be in town to celebrate Independence Day. However, it was not to be, for duty called and she had to work part of the weekend and could not get away. The disappointment at Chez Sarge was palpable.

On the other hand, she had booked a sailing adventure out of Newport for Sunday afternoon. She couldn't make it, The Missus Herself and I were forced to go ahead and take the cruise for her.

Sacrifices. We make them for our children.

The Nuke had thought it to be a sunset cruise, well to be certain, had we taken the cruise at another time of year it would have been. But at the beginning of July one should not expect to see the sun go down between 1700 and 1830. Unless, of course, the Apocalypse was upon us. As it was not, we saw bright sunshine the whole way.

Now technically speaking it was a Dark and Stormy cruise.

What? No, the weather was fine, why would...

Oh! Let me explain.

Newport Dark and Stormies, a local version of the traditional drink and a favorite among the local sailing community, are served aboard this sail. The drink features Newport's own Thomas Tew's Rum and Rhode Island's Yacht Club Ginger Beer, developed to go with Pirate Tew's rum. (Source)

While The Missus Herself did not have a beverage aboard the schooner, I did. For research purposes dontcha know?

The Newport Dark and Stormy is a most excellent beverage. After consuming mine I felt this great urge to start saying "argh" and perhaps to convince the crew to start waylaying other vessels and generally playing the pirate. I also had this great urge to have another, perhaps more, ya know for the research wot's innit.

However, the Adirondack's crew assured me that piracy was indeed illegal, and that there is a significant Coast Guard presence in the local waters. Also The Missus Herself assured me that any more Dark and Stormies and I might have the opportunity, like Luca Brasi, to "sleep with the fishes."

Sigh...

So I limited my activities to just the one Dark and Stormy, some photography, admiring the sights, and no piracy.

"But that boat there has a much smaller crew than ours..."

"Sit down, Sir. We are not going to board any of the other boats. As fun as that might be. We could lose our licence to serve alcohol dontcha know?"

Hhmm, perish the thought.

Anyhoo, if you're ever in Newport, chase those links above, book a sail. It's relatively inexpensive and the Dark and Stormies are but five bucks a pop. Yummy, good stuff.

Oh, here are some of the photos I took. As a bonus there's a video I took at the end. (No skipping ahead now...)

A brilliant day to head out into the Bay!

Newport is always a bit crowded in the summer. This is nearly empty compared to when we returned to the pier.

The crew cleaning up after the previous cruise.

I must have a word with the port authorities, this is not the proper way to mount a cannon!

MV Renaissance. I think I could get used to living that sort of life.

The crew hoisting sail.

Outward bound.

Hands aloft! Er, never mind...

That tall ship is the Oliver Hazard Perry, built right here in Little Rhody. Want to learn how to sail a tall ship? They will teach you.

There is nothing so pleasant as wind-filled canvas on a fair day!

One of the local buoys.

A couple of the local gulls.
(Detail from the preceding photo.)

The crew seeing to our comfort. Yes, those are Dark and Stormies...
A full selection of beverages could be had, from water to rum.

Clingstone on The Dumplings.
(That's the name of the house and the name of the rocks atop which she sits.)

You can read more about Clingstone here.
It rents for about ten grand a week.

The crew giving us the guided tour.

I love the slap of the waves against the hull. I could listen to that all day.

Now that is a blue sky!

The Star Spangled Banner on the battlements of Fort Adams.
(Hhmm, reminds me of a song...)

Another view of the Perry as we round the Fort.

Yes indeed, welcome to Newport!

It was a fine way to spend a couple of hours.

Back to the pier. Sigh...

Sea and sky. I love it.

Ahoy mateys! Stick around for the video.

A rather talkative bunch weren't they? But we all had fun!

Enjoy the Fourth, may your day be filled with fun and Independence!

Remember what it's all about and how we got here.

It wasn't cheap.

They took off, raised their gear and blew up*

Well....If you're reading this on the 4th of July holiday weekend, my detailed campaign plan to deploy a pithy blog post discussing some Alaskan topic, such as "Grudge Match--Killer Whale vs Sea Lion", or "Could we build a house on that island over there", or is "Macallan 18 as good as The GlenLivet Naturra", has gone awry.

Yes, I'll be celebrating the Nation's 241st birthday on board a cruise from Seward to Vancouver.  Evidently the free WiFi included in our package was insufficient to allow for posting and I had to "Scramble the Spare".

Last week's post talked about an incident I had with General Charles A. "Chuck" Horner.  (I, of course, referred to him as General or, alternatively, Sir).  I was reminded of that incident when I found this video which, although lengthy is quite good discussing the F-15's role in Desert Storm. (You have my permission to close it out after watching the F-15 part at the beginning.  It only covers the F-117 and F-111's role.  I agree... boring! /sarc).

I think the video does an outstanding job of explaining how the complete air dominance that the coalition gained in the first few days enabled so many of the options that played out in the rest of the campaign.  

Please note, nowhere in that paragraph do I say or even imply that the Air Force won Desert Storm.  Air Power enabled a lot of the operational maneuver that defeated Saddam.  Without that dominance, I believe the end result would have been the same, if quite a bit later and with much higher cost.  

In any case, "Scramble the Spare"!  Here's the video.

*The Title is a quote from General Horner in the Video describing what happened to the Iraqi Air Force.

Bluegrass and My Favorite Movie

(Source)

It was some years back, back when Blockbuster and other video emporiums were still thriving concerns, when the progeny and I went down to pick out a movie or two to spend a Saturday night. Every now and again we'd see a film we'd never heard of, sometimes those films would have a big name or two in them.

Now I don't give two craps about a man's politics, his sexual preferences, or any of that nonsense. If the fellow can act, if he can entertain me for a couple of hours, well, I'll put a buck or two in his pocket.

I know that some of those Hollywood types have some odd ideas about how this country should be run. Some could say the same of me (at heart I'm a bit of a monarchist, as long as I get to be the monarch, otherwise, you can color me a small "R" republican).

Anyhoo, that one night (like I said, a while back but still in this century, post-Air Force as it were) we brought home a couple of movies. One big time movie and this gem -

(Source)

At the end, all I could say was, "Brilliant."

O Brother, Where Art Thou? is my favorite movie of all time. Really, I'm serious. Yes, I love me some big historic epics, and those films based on some of my favorite books (The Hunt For Red October springs to mind), but this one is, hands down, my favorite. I've watched it multiple times and I never tire of it.

The story is great, the acting is superb, and damn it, there's just something in that film which really appeals to me down at some gut level.

Maybe it's the music?

Yeah, favorite song (of all time) right there. Just ask The Missus Herself, she swears that I listen to one version or another of that tune every damned day. Sometimes (okay, usually) more than once. That Dan Tyminski fella sure can sing. He's a fellow Vermonter for whatever that's worth. No matter the politics of my home state, those green hills of home will ever be in my blood. Always.

So, at one point I asked myself if it was just the music from the film that I liked, or did that extend to most bluegrass tunes?

Well, I gotta confess, I loves me some bluegrass. Speaking of fellows who can carry a tune, I like this guy too. A lot...

That was some mighty fine a pickin' and a singin'!

From the Overnight Mail

(Source)

Got the following from a friend via e-mail. As I got nothing, I figured I'd share this with y'all. I mean, I am an engineer. Sort of. (Back in the day I actually had a pocket protector and a slide rule. No, really.)

Understanding Engineers #1

Two engineering students were biking across a university campus when one said, "Where did you get such a great bike?"

The second engineer replied, "Well, I was walking along yesterday, minding my own business, when a beautiful woman rode up on this bike, threw it to the ground, took off all her clothes and said, "Take what you want."

The first engineer nodded approvingly and said, "Good choice: The clothes probably wouldn't have fit you anyway."

Understanding Engineers #2

To the optimist, the glass is half-full. To the pessimist, the glass is half-empty. To the engineer, the glass is twice as big as it needs to be.

Understanding Engineers #3

A priest, a doctor, and an engineer were waiting one morning for a particularly slow group of golfers. The engineer fumed, "What's with those guys? We must have been waiting for fifteen minutes!"

The doctor chimed in, "I don't know, but I've never seen such inept golf!"

The priest said, "Here comes the greens-keeper. Let's have a word with him." He said, "Hello George, What's wrong with that group ahead of us? They're rather slow, aren't they?"

The greens-keeper replied, "Oh, yes. That's a group of blind firemen. They lost their sight saving our clubhouse from a fire last year, so we always let them play for free anytime!."

The group fell silent for a moment. The priest said, "That's so sad. I think I will say a special prayer for them tonight."

The doctor said, "Good idea. I'm going to contact my ophthalmologist colleague and see if there's anything she can do for them."

The engineer said, "Why can't they play at night?"

Understanding Engineers #4

What is the difference between mechanical engineers and civil engineers?

Mechanical engineers build weapons. Civil engineers build targets.

Understanding Engineers #5

The graduate with a science degree asks, "Why does it work?"

The graduate with an engineering degree asks, "How does it work?"

The graduate with an accounting degree asks, "How much will it cost?"

The graduate with an arts degree asks, "Do you want fries with that?"

Understanding Engineers #6

Three engineering students were gathered together discussing who must have designed the human body. One said, "It was a mechanical engineer. Just look at all the joints."

Another said, "No, it was an electrical engineer. The nervous system has many thousands of electrical connections."

The last one said, "No, actually it had to have been a civil engineer. Who else would run a toxic waste pipeline through a recreational area?"

Understanding Engineers #7

Normal people believe that if it ain't broke, don't fix it. Engineers believe that if it ain't broke, it doesn't have enough features yet.

Understanding Engineers #8

An engineer was crossing a road one day, when a frog called out to him and said, "If you kiss me, I'll turn into a beautiful princess." He bent over, picked up the frog, and put it in his pocket. The frog spoke up again and said, "If you kiss me, I'll turn back into a beautiful princess and stay with you for one week."

The engineer took the frog out of his pocket, smiled at it and returned it to the pocket.

The frog then cried out, "If you kiss me and turn me back into a princess, I'll stay with you for one week and do anything you want."

Again, the engineer took the frog out, smiled at it and put it back into his pocket.

Finally, the frog asked, "What is the matter? I've told you I'm a beautiful princess and that I'll stay with you for one week and do anything you want. Why won't you kiss me?"

The engineer said, "Look, I'm an engineer. I don't have time for a girlfriend, but a talking frog - now that's cool."

Two Engineers

Two engineers were standing at the base of a flagpole, looking at its top. A woman walked by and asked what they were doing.

"We're supposed to find the height of this flagpole," said one, "but we don't have a ladder."

The woman took a wrench from her purse, loosened a couple of bolts, and laid the pole down on the ground. Then she took a tape measure from her pocketbook, took a measurement, and announced, "Twenty one feet, six inches," and walked away.

One engineer shook his head and laughed, "A lot of good that does us. We ask for the height and she gives us the length!"

Both engineers have since quit their engineering jobs and are currently serving in the United States congress.

Tip of the hat to Patsy for the material.

Like I said, I'm an engineer now, but I used to work on these, designed by engineers!

(Source)

Those were the days...

A Pair of 38s, and Other Tidbits

A pair of P-38s "over" Shemya. (Source)

It had been a long, tedious flight from Kunsan Air Base, in the Land of the Morning Calm, back to Kadena Air Base, in the Land of the Rising Sun. I don't remember exactly how many hours that journey took, which is odd because I did it a lot, but I seem to remember two-plus hours in the cargo hold of a C-130 Hercules. Quicker in a C-141 Starlifter, but I only did that once. (Did some quick checks, distance from Kadena to Kunsan is 667 miles, cruising speed of an African swallow C-130 Hercules is 374 mph, the older models might have been a tad slower and you need to factor in time to taxi, take off, get to altitude on the one end, then do the whole landing thing on the other end, three hours is probably closer to the mark. Juvat could probably do it in an hour in his Eagle, probably about the same in the Phantom. Which isn't as fast as a -15 and not as sexy, but the Phantom was my aircraft, so I'm partial to the old girl.)

Anyhoo. Long flight on board a military aircraft from one military base to another, our stuff was all checked at one place but, of course, the Military Airlift Command (MAC) wienies had to do the whole customs thing on the ground at Kadena. Probably because of the whole "two different countries" thing (Japan and Korea).

So...

The MAC wienie has us all in a little room in the MAC terminal at Kadena, doing his level best to prove that he is indeed a shoe clerk, and not, most assuredly not, a fighter pilot kind of guy. Did I mention that the air conditioning unit in that small room at the MAC terminal was not working all that well? Have I ever mentioned that Kadena in the summer gives Biloxi a run for its money in the "it's Africa hot" sweepstakes? No? Well, it is. Damned hot.

Anyhoo...

"Does anyone have any firearms, alcohol, or other things to declare?" sayeth the MAC wienie.

At which point a very well-endowed female captain of Security Police stands up, chest straining the fabric of her uniform, and announces -

"I have a pair of 38s..."

Before she can finish, snickering* breaks out amongst the male (non-MAC) people in the room. Yes, two or three of those fellows were clad in flight suits and may or may not have been Phantom crewmen who had to fly with the rest of us peasants because their ride was down for maintenance. Was I one of the "snickerers"? Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. Anyhoo...

"...a pair of .38 caliber revolvers in my B-4 bag." said the lovely captain casting a gimlet eye about the room, her glance suggesting what might have happened had her (ahem) .38s not been in her B-4 bag.

B-4 Bag (Source)

The room rather quieted down after that. And no, the pencil-necked MAC wienie didn't get it. (I should say that I have nothing against those who served in the Military Airlift Command. That guy though, total shoe clerk!)

I should note that the term "pair of 38s" can, obviously, have multiple meanings. The leading photo was found by Googling the phrase "pair of 38s." Yes, there were other images which popped up. Some actually had revolvers, many did not. Let's leave it at that and move on...

(Source)

In my salad days I was the day-shift NCOIC** of radar calibration at Kunsan Air Base, Republic of Korea. I spent nearly four years at Kunsan, would've stayed longer but they shipped me out when the F-4s left. I offered to learn how to fix F-16s, but the powers that be told me, "Move along, nothing to see here." And yes, I digress.

Now on the mighty F-4C and F-4D Phantom aircraft, there was a requirement for each aircraft to have it's radar system calibrated. Essentially, tested, tweaked, and wrung out so that at least for a few days the damned thing might actually work. Okay, it wasn't that bad. When the system worked, which was more often than not, it could put a radar guided missile into a bad guy and ruin his whole day. Provided, of course, that the missile actually worked as advertised and that the pilot kept his jet pointing at the target. Which, in a combat situation, ain't always - in fact I would venture to guess never - a good idea.

At any rate, requirements being, well, required, every 180 days we got to examine every jet. No, we didn't do them all at once, that's just silly.

One fine Korean day an F-4D was brought into our hangar (yes, we had our very own hangar, no one else was allowed to play therein) and we commenced to prepping the bird for it's semi-annual radar exam. Which involved opening the radome (the black pointy-thing in the picture), attaching various power and hydraulic lines, checking various grounding wires, switches, and safety interlocks to verify that when we applied power nothing would burst into flame, explode, smoke, or otherwise endanger the safety and well-being of personnel. Which would be me and my merry band of maintainers.

We also had to remove Panel 4L, (the L standing for "Left") which I have outlined for you in red in the photo and pointed to with a big red arrow. No, the panel is not outlined in red on the jet, nor is there a big red arrow painted on the jet pointing to the panel in question.

Panel 4L gave us access to the Continuous Wave Modulator (CW for you radar aficionados) which, if bad, could then be removed from the aircraft for repair or replacement. It also helped with keeping Mr. Radar cool during our work. Though we did supply the radar package with cooling air on the ground, every little bit helped.

Now Panel 4L is secured with half-a-billion brass screws. Brass, no doubt for metallurgical reasons (think corrosion prevention and the like) and to provide gainful employment for sheet metal specialists.

Huh?

Yes. Those brass screws were rather soft, and the heads of those screws would strip out rather easily if removed or replaced with too much vigor. Which was often the case. Like I said, there were a half-a-billion of those screws and oft times we would be in a hurry as the air crew might be standing there whining asking, "Is the jet ready, can we go flying now, are you done, when is it going to be done?" Et cetera, et cetera. (No, I never saw Juvat do that. OTOH, I didn't know Juvat back then and... Nah, no way he'd do that.)

And so it came to pass, that on that one fine day in Korea, we were removing Panel 4L and yes, one of the screw heads was as smooth as a baby's butt, no "X" marks the spot, no way to get the damned thing out. So we call the sheet metal guys, who have to come out and drill the thing out without damaging anything around it. Which, I must say, they were damned good at, you might say they were professionals. Because indeed, they were. (Trained and everything!)

So the sheet metal dude comes out, gets that last screw out, and we remove Panel 4L. Out of which a rather large plastic wrapped something falls out. We all just sort of stood there for a moment until I realized what it was.

"Dave, go call the cops. Me thinks we've stumbled onto a bit o' dope smuggling."

The Security Police arrived, of course they immediately starting acting like assholes, it's what they do, until I pointed out to them that our job was to calibrate the gorram radar, not to monitor the crap some ee-jit put inside said jet. If we found something out of the ordinary, we'd do what we just did. Call the authorities. A more senior cop showed up, shooed his morons out of the hangar, along with my minions, and he and I had a little chat.

We checked with Job Control and they informed us that the jet had just returned from Clark Air Base in the Philippines. Someone down there had some 'splainin' to do. No doubt someone at Kunsan did as well. The government really frowns on illicit substances being shipped aboard their airplanes.

The cops took the drugs, their commander wanted to impound the aircraft until the Deputy Commander for Maintenance (a full colonel) asked him if he really wanted an assignment to the middle of nowhere, which he swore he could make happen. (Perhaps the locale of that opening photo. A real garden spot I'm told.) The cop commander said, uh, no thanks, the bird is yours, and we all went our merry ways.

As I recall, the crew chief for that aircraft thought he was being clever shipping marijuana from Clark to Kunsan under Panel 4L. I mean there are a half-a-billion screws on that sucker, I mean who's going to pull it?

Dude should have checked to see when his jet was going into Radar Cal. We pull that panel, that's who.

Well, I suppose to cap off this trilogy, I should have a bit o' rock and roll. This tune was one we used to listen to on many a Friday night. Over at Jazbo's room, he had a huge stereo. Yuge. Beer in hand we'd listen to this melodious song, getting ready for a wild night of pinochle, more music, and more rock and roll. Oh, and more beer. A lot more beer.

As if we young airmen could afford to go downtown to the local bars and carouse with the young ladies therein.

Like choir boys we were.

At least, that's how I remember it...

Oh, one last thing. We only played that song on the "Really loud, Dear Lord, I think my ears are bleeding" setting.




* Yes, I was sorely tempted to go with a synonym for this word. Said synonym starts with a "t," but I resisted that primal, adolescent urge.
** NCOIC = Non-Commissioned Officer In Charge. Not to be confused with the HMFIC. That would have been TSgt Ernest E. "Skip" Sipes. One of the finest men I ever knew.