JP had sent this around last week, and it’s a good one… Then yesterday I got an email that another guy that I’d flown with in the 70s had died, no cause known in the email. They were asking if anyone was close enough to attend the funeral and help provide military honors. Sadly I’m on the road and couldn’t get there in time. RIP Mikey, RIP!!!
Why you might ask ? They were a bunch of Aggressive, Wise ass, Cocky, Insulting, Sarcastic Bastards in smelly flight suits who thought a funny thing to do was to fart and see if they could clear a room. They drank too much, they chased Women, they flew when they shouldn’t, they laughed too loud and thought they owned the Sky, the Bar, and generally thought they could do everything better then the next guy. Nothing was funnier than trying to screw with a buddy and see how pissed off they would get. They flew planes and helos that leaked, that smoked, that broke, that couldn’t turn, that burned fuel too fast, that never had autopilots or radars, and with systems that were archaic next to today’s new generation aircraft. All true !
When we went to another base we were the best Squadron on the base as soon as we landed. Often we were not welcomed back. When we went into an O’Club we owned the bar. We were lucky to have the Best of the Best in the Military. We knew it and so did others. We found jobs, lost jobs, got married, got divorced, moved, went broke, got rich, broke something and the only thing you could really count on was if you really needed help, a fellow Pilot would have your back.
I miss the call signs, nicknames, and the stories behind them. I miss getting lit up in an O’Club full of my Buddies and watching the incredible, unbelievable things that were happening. I miss the Crew Chiefs saluting as you taxied out the flight line. I miss the lighting of the afterburners, if you had them, especially at night. I miss the going straight up and straight down. I miss the Cross Countries. I miss the dice games at the bar for drinks. I miss listening to BS stories while drinking and laughing till my eyes watered.
I miss three man lifts. I miss naps in the Squadron with a room full of Pilots working up new tricks to torment the sleeper. I miss flying upside down in the Grand Canyon and hearing about flying so low boats were blown over. I miss coming into the break hot and looking over and seeing three wingmen tucked in tight ready to make the troops on the ground proud. I miss belches that could be heard in neighboring states. I miss putting on ad hoc Air Shows that might be over someone’s home or farm in far away towns.
I am a lucky guy and have lived a great life ! One thing I know is that I was part of a special, really talented bunch of guys doing something dangerous and doing it better than most. Flying the most beautiful, ugly, noisy, solid aircraft ever built. Supported by ground troops committed to making sure we came home again ! Being prepared to fly and fight and die for America. Having a clear mission.
this is truly where we belong. We are Pilots. We are Few and We are Proud.
I am Privileged and Proud to call you Brothers.
Well said.
Yep, what he said!
Where is Mikey? If reasonably close I’ll attend his funeral.
Every Navy pilot I ever knew would agree with that assessment. Well said, indeed.
I would venture so far as to say that this applies to guys from my old Troop as well.
We were E Troop, the best group of Scouts on the planet and there wasn’t any mission we couldn’t handle nor was there any bar that we automatically own when we walked in.
it goes to the brotherhood of war thing.
Amen
Buncha bullshit from an immature asshole doing prohibited things with equipment they didn’t buy.
Juvenile Frat behavior at its worst.
I hated pilots in the military for a lot of reasons. Thank you for reminding me why.
Msgt USAF, Retired.
Old AF/Juvat- Yep…
CP- California, but thanks!
Rev/SPE/Rick- Agreed
Mark- You have a point too.
Hi old NFO,
Well said! ‘Was just an old “Gator Navy PR” and I concur with your assessment. With a few mods to the description the same can be said for “Old Skydivers!” Every dive was a “Mission,” every story started with,”No Sh*t, there I was, thought I was gonna’ die!!!” The Beer, had to be cold, too.
Blue skies, Black Death!,
III%,
skybill-out