brickhistory

Right, tell that to UPS/FEDEX, et al who are looking at and spending $$ on this. It's a lot cheaper to program a computer than hire/pay a meat servo in the cockpit. It will happen. No strikes, no salary negotiations, no pensions, etc. Same for the military. I'd argue that manned aircraft would do better for the 'pop up' resupply jobs than the long-haul scheduled ones where the variables would be fewer. For the airlines, it's a little different but based on human pschology not technology. Folks, me included, will be very hinky to get inside anything going up with only "HAL" at the controls for a long while. But a good run from the types in my first paragraph will help answer the concerns in the second. By the way, imagine if you were in a Minuteman III ICBM launch control center or a boomer sub. Think most of the dudes/dudettes down there would hesitate about turning keys?

One of the reasons for going to UAVs is to take the human out of the loss chain. It's a lot more politically acceptable for the decisionmakers (most who have never served) to accept the real possibility of combat losses if they decide to 'let slip the dogs of war.' They, particularly since the late 1980s have become more and more gun-shy (no pun intended) about US casualties because they know the press/lefties will focus solely on that and not the bigger objective of the operation. The press will then beat them about the head and shoulders until the public votes them out of office. Related, but going left of center - how do flight docs at Creech, et al, get their flight time?

A concise, non-emotional letter addressed to the MPF commander of the base that is screwing you over should help. It probably won't solve your immediate problem, but it will get his/her attention and he/she will direct that attention to his finance people. Repeat non-emotional. Don't call them 'tards or any other names. Give a specific listing of times/dates you submitted stuff, dates they screwed up/who if possible, etc. Ask him to please follow up with you for any actions taken on your behalf. It lets him know you aren't just 'going away' and he can forget about it. Be respectful, but firm in expressing your frustration at the situation and the hardship their buffoonery is causing you and your family. If no answer/satisfaction, then send another letter and a copy of the first one to the Support Group Commander of the base asking him if this is standard practice.

Finally knocked out this trip (of course the day either side at Vegas didn't hurt!) and scouted the St. George area. Town itself was no great shakes - mid-size town sprawl look to it. Airport was kinda cool, perched on the crest of the butte/hill/whatever y'all call it. Checked out some of the subdivisions to the northeast and northwest; some nice places, but overall it just didn't do it for us. BTW, tried to order a pitcher of margaritas and was informed that a pitcher required three or more drinkers under UT law. WTF? Went further northeast into Hurricane and on to Zion Nat'l Park. Some beautiful views and areas to build, but the overall feel didn't appeal to us. Wife doesn't want to live out miles from anyone else. Me, I kinda like that.......... Both Mrs and I didn't feel anything saying "Yeah, this is it." But thanks for the posts here and the PMs. It helped rule out some areas to check out and let us use our time more efficiently.

Not me! I am down to two bags, a pair of boots, a flight cap, and an old style field-soon to be a hunting-jacket! On terminal leave starting 25 Jan, start work on 1 Feb, retired 1 March. edited to ask: Is Brady's belt part of the new service dress or his GO's belt and buckle? I would've liked to have been a GO, mainly to get the .45 they get (still in this PC age?)

I'm sure it's the most retarded way to do it, but in tracking guys down for some of my articles, I've done the 411.com. Found a listing in various cities and worked the phone from there. Lots of strike outs that way, but I usually found who I was looking for. Eventually.

While we're at it; get your Vulcan and Bucc lines cranked up again!

Steve, I agree with your point about competition being a good thing. When there were at least half a dozen players - North American, Convair, Martin, Boeing, McDonnell, Douglas, et al, there was much more innovation and, I believe, probably a better deal for Uncle Sam. Not to mention the industrial capacity should another war occur. Now, not so much. Same applied over your way prior to BAeS/BAE/etc, etc. Some good hardware until the conglomeration into one mega-company. However, letting EADS in is the nose under the tent. Something in my gut says it's a bad idea. Good info regarding the major stakeholders of EADS. Since roughly 50% of them are governments, a) why should Uncle Sam help their balance sheets at the expense of a US company and b) all are members of the EU. Should a tiff develop, I still think the EU wouldn't hesitate to pull the plug on the project in some fashion we wouldn't like. I think most guys just want something that moves gas and isn't a maintanance pig. Either would do it and given a choice between a US company reaping the benefits and a EU partnership, I'm sticking with the US commercial company. But, I don't get an input into the process, so we'll see.

I meant a Boeing manufacturing plant in Europe not Boeing hardware there.

My $.02: yep, bringing jobs and manufacturing capability into anywhere has got to be a good thing. A couple of differences here are those jobs going to Alabama will most likely mean the same number of jobs lost in Washington State. Also, helping EADS get a foothold in the US military market both undercuts the US owned manufacturing base (what if we have a beef with France in the future and the Frogs don't support what we do/want?) and points a long-range gun at Boeing's head. I don't see Boeing getting a shot at such a deal in Europe, why should we give EADS a shot here? And then when the order is filled, would that plant capacity be put to making various flavors of the 'A'bus here to further compete with Boeing products? My money is on Boeing winning the contract. And I hope they do.

And a nice public kick in the jimmy to Cohen whom I detest.

Piggybacking (sts) off the F-15 driver's comments about how money can't buy the experiences/memories of military flying in the 'Washout Thread.' Sunrise and Concrete Recently on an early morning flight from Dulles, I had to board the jet by exiting the gate, descending to the ramp and then up the airstars. Remember when that was the norm for aircraft boarding and not the more efficient but boring jet way? That short stint on the ramp brought back vivid, almost palpable memories of other sunrises on other airfields. I don’t believe there are very many people associated with aviation that don’t get a feeling of anticipation, almost joy by the mix of airplanes, runways and a new dawn. My first sunrises in aviation occurred in the Deep South while getting my single engine land ticket as a teenager. The necessity of getting an early start to avoid the summer thunderstorms often meant a morning take-off and opportunities to see the sun rise above the pines of Georgia. As a youngster, the whole romance and excitement of flying made the effort of getting up early and driving an hour to the small uncontrolled airport totally worthwhile. Everything about the dew-covered Cessna was fascinating and I tried hard to remember my 10,000-hour instructor (remember when those guys were teaching?) told me. The preflight and start up were an adrenaline rush that no coffee could ever match. As I grew and had to balance the time/money matrix of building flight hours, often times I couldn’t justify the hour of cockpit time versus working my way through college. I lost the joy of an early wake up in my need for sleep to survive the daily grind. Sunrises reclaimed some of their beauty for me when I started flying for the Air Force. The drama and seriousness of military aviation made the “oh dark-thirty” goes worthwhile again. Driving around the air base perimeter at Kadena, Okinawa perched on the edge of the East China Sea was always a jumpstart to the day. Watching the blue taxiway lights fade from brilliant diamonds to pale glimmers while the thundering pink of the approaching sun mad the grays and whites of Uncle Sam’s airplanes emerging from the dark look like a scene from “Top Gun.” I couldn’t help but feel a sense of expectancy and drama as the airfield woke up. Settling into my crew position became a mixture of routine and anticipation. Would the mission go as planned? What am I missing that can come back to bite me in the posterior? These and other operational questions would percolate in the back of my mind while the almost dance-like choreography of the hardworking ground crew get the jet ready to go. Flashing hand signals, terse intercom words, scratchy radio calls and the bustling crew chiefs, armaments guys and hose haulers made for unforgettable memories. Add in the rising sun and it was almost like having a front row seat in a 3-D IMAX theater. Unfortunately, as happens to most of us, I had to grow up. I left the fun of frontline aviation and went into the business world. My connection with the smell and feel of an airport’s concrete grew more and more remote. The repetition of going through the sterile corridors of most airports ground down the amazing fact that I was boarding a complex machine that would whisk me away to destinations hundreds or thousands of miles away with very little effort on my part (new security procedures excepted!) My Dulles provided jarring rush of cool morning air, the quiet shattering of the early morning as Pratt & Whitney engines spooled up and the purposeful actions of the airline ramp workers rekindled the enthusiasm of mornings and airplanes. I’ve often wondered what the baggage handlers heaving my stuff (gently, folks, gently) into the cargo hold thinks as he or she works. Do the goose pimples from the morning chill translate into anything other than a wage per hour concern or is there a feeling of being part of something larger? How about the long-suffering first officer doing his preflight with flashlight in hand? I hope so. An airline captain friend of mine, when asked about this subject, reflected a moment before replying, “You know, now that I think about it, I do still get a charge over the start engines checklist and the pushback; especially with the first rays of sunlight coming into the cockpit. I need to remember to appreciate that more often.” I, too, need the reminder of what it’s like to be on an airfield at dawn. For to remember that is to be young again. Coming off a red-eye at dawn, however, doesn’t count.

Ironic since it was Truman who was famous for the motto, "The bug stops here."* Only funny if the crews are ok.........

Sorry for those who think the post too long; feel free to skip it........... ONE WAY ON D-DAY On the evening of the biggest day of World War II, D-Day June 6, 1944, the 82d Airborne Division was heavily engaged in fierce close quarters combat with the German Army. The Germans had been trying desperately all day to drive the American parachute and glider borne assault troops back into the English Channel. The 82d urgently needed reinforcements and resupply to hold its initial positions. S. Tipton “Tip” Randolph was one of the pilots who flew who to Normandy in support of the 82d. Unlike most pilots on this fateful day, Randolph was one of a relative handful who knew they weren’t coming back from this flight. He was part of the little-publicized group called military glider pilots. Not only did he fly into combat on a one-way ride, but he did it in a glider that was not American designed or made. The Preparation for Normandy “I was attending my sophomore year at Asheville College, North Carolina when America entered World War II. During that year, I picked up my pilot’s license as a course in the Civilian Pilot Training Course. I got credit towards my degree and had fun, to boot. “In March 1942, some of my friends and I heard about the newly started U.S. Army Air Force glider program. A glib Army recruiter with a quota to fill found a rapt audience with us. By having my pilot’s license and passing a perfunctory physical, I was a prime candidate for this new training. “Starting in May 1942, about 75 glider pilot trainees reported to Shaw Field in Sumter, South Carolina. There we enlisted as privates in the Army Air Force. Moved down to Ft. Jackson, S.C., our group was formally in-processed into the military. The archetypical shot line, uniform issue, and yet another physical that essentially consisted of being able to breathe and walk upright followed. “Following the abbreviated introduction into the military, I traveled by train to a civilian-run preliminary light airplane gliding instruction school at Goodland, Kansas. The flying there was actually conducted in powered light aircraft. In my case, Piper Cubs were the primary vehicle. “Everything we did at Kansas was a repeat of private pilot training with a heavy emphasis on deadstick landings. We flew a landing pattern and on the downwind leg, the instructor would pull the throttle. It was up to the student to fly the rest of the pattern and get the plane down on the field. This was really effective at developing judgment and distance estimating in a young pilot. “The guys that couldn’t do it after a couple of tries, and the patterns grew longer and longer from the touchdown point, were eliminated from the program. Since we had enlisted, those guys were sent to jobs elsewhere. Not what we young guys wanted, so I worked really hard at being good at milking the plane’s glide as far as possible. “After Kansas, the we moved on to Amarillo, Texas’ England Field. It was here that they got our first true sailplane training. Flying mostly Schweitzer and Laister-Kauffman 2-place sailplanes, I learned the basic theory and operation of the tow-plane/glider operation. “This was the most fun flying I ever had. I’d get towed to three-four thousand feet, release the tow line, and after flying whatever the simple pattern required for that flight’s lesson – could be a loop, a 360 around a point or what have you- but after that lesson requirement was met, I could play and experiment for as long as I had altitude. “The true gliders we flew at England Field were very different from the power off Cubs. In the Cub, when you pulled the power to simulate the tow release, the weight of the engine and the shorter wings ensured that you were going into an immediate descent. In the Schweitzer, that wasn’t the case. With those long wings, you could do a lot of stuff and not really lose a lot of altitude. I really enjoyed flying those gliders. “By the winter of 1942, I had been promoted to Staff Sergeant and was sent to the cold, windswept panhandle of Texas outside Dalhart. It was here that I had my introduction to the CG-4A ‘Hadrian’ combat glider. I always figured that this would be the only aircraft I see combat in. “The CG-4A is a big aircraft. With a wingspan over 80 feet and a load carrying capability of more than its own weight, it dwarfed anything any of my classmates or I had ever flown before. After settling into the left seat of the CG-4A, I discovered that as fun as the sailplane training had been, it wasn’t particularly applicable to the big glider. “With the CG-4A, once you ‘cut-off’ from the tow rope – by the way in almost no case did the tow plane release the glider, rather it was the glider that released the tow rope. If you didn’t or if the tow rope snapped, the end from the tow plane came whipping back and could tear a hole in the Plexiglas or the fabric or what was worse, wrap around a control surface or the landing wheels. We lost a lot of guys in training and in combat due to a broken towrope. “Anyway, once you cut off, the CG-4A was a big heavy ship. If she wasn’t being dragged forward, she was going to go downhill. If you kept the speed up above 80 mph or so, she handled very well. You could maintain position behind the tow ship with only slight moves of the rudder. In free flight, the controls weren’t particularly heavy until the speed dropped off. At that point, you weren’t far from the stall and the controls were a bit sloppy. “I graduated and was commissioned a Flight Officer on 27 February 1943. I was immediately sent to Ft Knox, Kentucky area for combat infantry training. While there, I learned to use and maintain all the U.S. small arms: M1 rifle, M1 carbine, .45 pistol, bazookas, mortars and machine guns. “I also continued my flight training, gaining experience and confidence handling a glider in a variety of flying conditions with heavy emphasis on night flying. “For our night training, often times, the instructors would set out two smudge pots to mark the end of the runway, then string a rope between two poles that was our ‘obstacle’ we had to clear, and then another two pots to mark the desired touchdown point. If we landed too long or too short, we caught an earful from those instructors. Nobody wanted to be thought as ‘not cutting the mustard’ so we got pretty good at hitting the mark. “ I was assigned to the 80th Troop Carrier Squadron in the 436th Troop Carrier Group. I stayed with the 80th until its deactivation in late 1945 after the war.” “After more training, culminating in division-size glider assaults in the rugged terrain of northern North Carolina, my group shipped out from New York aboard the RMS Queen Mary on January 2, 1944. “I arrived in Scotland on January 6 and soon was on my way south to my group’s home at Membury Field, England. From then until April, we new glider pilots practiced flying in formations ranging from single ships up to Wing-sized drops. It was during this time that I also practiced my first double-tow flights. In this configuration, one C-47 would tow two CG-4As. With careful planning and skillful handling by all three pilots, it was a viable combat configuration. If it was rushed or a pilot was ham-fisted, it could be a disaster. “I flew every chance I got. In addition to his scheduled flights, I’d hang around the squadron and group ops areas and anytime somebody needed a pilot or co-pilot, I was ready to fly. Eventually, all of my group’s glider pilots were sent to a British navigation course and then we would fly as C-47 navigators. After building up some ‘Gooney Bird’ time, we served as C-47 copilots thus doubling the number of C-47 crews available if a glider tow wasn’t the mission.” “If we were doing tows, you rotate before the tow plane at about 75-80 mph, and go above him. Not too far or you’d dump the tow on its nose before he was airborne. It was a real short flight if you did that. “After you saw the tow get up, you’d settle in trail behind him about 4-6 feet above his tail. That kept you out his propwash and let him make any turns he needed without having to worry about you hitting him on the inside of the turn. At night, however, you had to fly slightly below him because the only reference you had was his exhaust flames. You’d get tossed around pretty good while the group was forming up, but it would generally settle down once everybody was heading the same way.” “About April, the planners for the airborne portion of the D-Day landings realized that the number of troops and amount of supplies to be airlifted exceeded the expected number of American gliders. Turning to the British, the we borrowed some Airspeed A.S.51 Horsa gliders and assigned them to some of the tasked glider units, mine included. “ On my initial checkout on the Horsa, a Brit NCO sat in the left seat and I sat in the right. We were pulled up and at pattern altitude we released from the tow. Except a bit on the downwind, I didn’t touch the controls. After we landed, the NCO said ’You’ll do just fine, mate.’ And with that, I was checked out. As a matter of fact, I was able to train additional glider pilots on the Horsa. There weren’t any designated instructors so we had to help each other hone our skills after the initial Brit checkout. “The Horsa was a much bigger craft than the CG-4A. The cockpit was almost completely separated from the cargo area whereas in the US glider, the two pilots were right in front of the payload. Indeed, in the CG-4A, the cockpit was hinged at the top to swing up and out of the way to load and unload. In the Brit ride, the cargo was unloaded via the tail. It also carried almost double the load of the American glider.” Randolph continues in his description of flying the bigger model, “The Horsa was a much different type than the American glider. It came with pneumatic-type flaps. The CG-4A had manually operated spoilers to dump speed. With the Horsa’s flaps, you could crank in 80 degrees and drop down in a hurry and also bleed off speed quickly. Very good tricks to have going into a ‘hot’ LZ (landing zone).” “I kept up my habit of trying to fly any chance I could get. I racked up almost 60 hours in the Horsa before flying into combat. Some guys, unfortunately, only had 4-5 hours before facing gunfire. Flying into Combat “On June 3, 1944, our crews were briefed on our part of the impending invasion on June 4th. The weather wasn’t consulted, however, and refused to cooperate so the initial drop was slipped by a day to the evening of the 5th, D-Day (D-1). As part of that drop, the 82d Airborne Division dropped both paratroopers and gliders into their objectives around Ste.-Mere-Eglise. “My squadron was on deck to fly the evening of June 6th. Due to scattered drops and heavy German resistance in the initial 82d assault, our designated LZ was still in a hotly contested area. Since the radios for the 82d’s commander, Major General Gavin, were destroyed on landing, he had no way to communicate back to England that the LZ would be very hot. “On the afternoon of June 6th, I was briefed on the target area. Small fields surrounded by hedgerows would make for very sporty landings. Reconnaissance photos also showed small objects in the field as “cows.” Those cows would turn out to be anti-invasion obstacles planted by the Germans to foil just such landings. “The take-off time was set for 2100. At that late hour, it would still be twilight, but dim enough so that any unforeseen obstacles on the glide in would be hidden until touchdown. “My copilot, Joe Bickett, and I walked out to our chalk or spot where our ship was on the runway. As we approached, we saw some airborne troops loading their equipment. They stopped and looked at us and we looked at them. Finally, the NCO of the bunch, Sgt Wallace Edwards, introduced himself and his men. Joe and I reciprocated.” “After watching them secure their load, we checked it to make sure it matched the manifest. We tipped the scales at 16,767 pounds. Max gross of the Horsa was supposed to be 15,800, but I wasn’t too concerned. I just would have to watch my stall speed a little more closely since it would be higher due to the extra weight.” “That evening when it was finally time to get going, just as the start engines flare went off, Sgt Edwards leaned forward and shouted, “Get us on the ground in one piece and we’ll keep you from harm on the ground.” That phrase has stuck with me all these years. When he said it, he meant it and he sure did keep his word.” “When it was our turn, the tow plane gradually started its take off run. As it did, it pulled the tow rope taut and started the Horsa rolling. Unlike the CG-4A, which had a single point attachment for the rope, the Horsa had two points, one on the underside of each wing. You had to be more vigilant in flying with this arrangement than a single point system since it was easy to overstress an attachment rope while the other went slack. If that happened, the line could break and the glider would quickly roll around the still-attached wing- a catastrophic event in a heavily loaded glider with frail humans aboard. “Flying over the Channel, I saw the thousands of ships involved in the amphibious landings. All those lights reminded me for some strange reason of a Christmas tree. I soon snapped back from my daydreaming after crossing the coast when a couple of rounds of ground fire twanged off something in the back, either the howitzer or the jeep. Stuff hitting the plywood floor made a dull thud. “At 400 feet, the light from the tow flashed and we cut off. In the gathering dark, it was tough to see the details I wanted. We turned left through 90 degrees following standard procedure and couldn’t make out the ground. Still descending, another 90-degree turn, and a burning tree casts a little light on the field. Another 90 and we line up for the landing. “At 75 feet, we brush through some tree tops and the horizon is barely visible. We drop full flaps and take an elevator ride down with the nose pointed at the dirt. At 30 feet, I pull the wheel deep into my stomach as Joe is calling out altitude. Photo 13 “We hit pretty hard but in one piece and after only a couple of hundred feet come to a stop. Just as we stopped, another Horsa came whizzing by and smacked into a hedgerow at high speed. We also discovered the LZ was still under fire so the troopers unloaded us in a hurry. In less than five minutes, we had unloaded and beat feet to impromptu rally point at one end of the field. Here we found another dozen 82d troopers. During the night, more and more guys joined our position. “Next day, D+1, we located ourselves in relation to the battle. We were northeast of a road between Les Forges and Ste Mere-Eglise. Our assigned post-landing battle station was the headquarters command post. Since nobody knew where it was, we stuck with Sgt Edwards and his guys, moving from skirmish to skirmish. “I saw just how frightening and numbing ground combat can be for the next three days. Finally, all the glider pilots were ordered to accompany some walking wounded to the beach and turn them over to some medical guys there. We then found the beachmaster and he loaded us on a transport back to Plymouth, England.” “Although the invasion glider force as a whole suffered massive losses during the Normandy operation, amazingly every single 80th Troop Carrier Squadron pilot came back in one piece.” End of the Story/Start of the Legacy Tip Randolph made another three combat assaults during the European campaigns. He also flew many resupply and medical evacuation flights that were not classified as “combat.” He eventually left the service in 1947 to run the family farm back in New Jersey. He went on to manage an industrial equipment company, retiring in 1982. An active member of the National World War II Glider Pilots Association, Inc., he has served as the Association’s National Commander and has been the Association’s Secretary for 28 years. He and a dedicated group of volunteers have compiled a data bank with information on more than 6,800 U.S. military glider pilots. Even today, he looks for any scrap of information about any glider pilot. The legacy contained in the database is priceless and represents America in one of her finest hours. Author’s note: Mr. Randolph proved a reluctant subject to interview. In the course of numerous calls and letters to him on the subject of the military glider program, Mr. Randolph always tried to get me to contact other pilots and tell their stories. He always said that their tales would be of more interest. After finally getting him to talk to me about this mission, I can only imagine what other stories are out there.

Ask a combat WWII vet (Guadalcanal, Bastogne, etc) how reliable supplies were. No disrespect to your Grandpa intended. Yeah, it was cool for Uncle Sam to send smokes and brew then, as it is now. But, c'mon.... And you guys deserve the or two after a day's work. No disputing that.

100% agree!

Remember the minivan explosion of the USN cruiser skipper who took down the Iranian airliner in the 80s? The shipdriver wasn't at the wheel, his wife was. The F-111 Libya raid guys are still hinky about talking publicly; many wouldn't for a story I did. The ones who did wouldn't allow full names. In my GCI drug ops days, we had a radar tech who was deployed 'down South' get an anonymous letter with current daily life photos of his wife and kid. There are bad guys out there who don't play by the rules........

I'm not there, I'm not active duty, soon, I won't even be wearing a uniform, however, can you not see the irony in your view? Uncle Sam (as f*cked up as he can be) is shipping/paying to ship BEER. It wasn't too long ago (historically speaking) when beans and bullets were all you were gonna get and that supply wasn't always assured on time. Yep, write your Congressman or the Washington Post. Think how THAT will play out..........

Warthog Burgers Flame-broiled on a our world-famous 30mm grill Try our "Taliban Patty Melt," it'll have you on your knees Our CBU fries are to die for And for dessert, try our fresh JDAM! Voted 'most refreshing' by Better Homes and Hovels, Al Qeada edition

I have GOT to get me one of these writers! I'd be so much more than I am today..... To be fair to her, she did do some very cool things at a young age; I'm wondering how much Mom and Dad forked over for them, but good on her for getting to do them. I woulda if I coulda....... No pressure on her I bet........

I did something similiar once here at the Puzzle Palace. I don't work in the building anymore but had to go there via the gi-normous South Parking lot (from the Pentagon City metro. Forgot my flight cap and since the journey over was all underground/under cover, I never needed it until I got outside. Too late to go back and make what I needed to attend. It's lunchtime and I've gotta make this meeting; I passed hundreds of people streaming through the lot on the way to a feed trough somewhere and every single one of them had to point out the obvious, "Hey, you forgot your hat!" Well thank you Col/Capt/MSgt Obvious! When I see some other poor shmo like that I just grin at him/her and press..........they know, I know, why make an issue of it? There's more important stuff to worry about, like where will get more F-22s from? And having to buy another damn blue taco............

Guam - mid 90s. Same scenario as Toro's, couches/cots upstairs to rack out. Not luxurious, but it beat the floor!

This one bothered me since I read it this morning. What you are writing is not a source of pride or 'putting one over on the man.' You were/are casual? And you can't be unassed to wear the uniform 90% correctly? Not talking about the socks or other BS, but imagine the respect you instill in every one you meet when your BDUs look like a turd (at least according to your description), and your bag looks like a leisure suit and you haven't done anything more than get commissioned. Deployed is one thing, but stateside and just hanging around getting paid = weak, in my opinion. Guess it's a good thing I'm 30 days and counting....................................

The Reds are impressive; putting nine jets up vs six is always cool. However, it says much when one unit is flying a fighter, the other a trainer. (and yes, I remember the T-38 T-birds. I would have loved to have seen the F-4 or even F-105 teams!)

You CAN get promoted? If nanook has good gouge, disregard my last................. (probably good advice anytime, anywhere...........)