plane, and in between I had a number of other things to do. I found out Ray, my office chief from Sembach, was temporarily working the night shift also. He showed me the ropes.
It was after 06:00 the next morning before I finally got to get some sleep—nothing like working a twelve-hour night after a twelve-hour day. By the time I reached my room, I could’ve slept standing up. Even so, upon reflection, had I the chance to do it again, I still would’ve flown. Who knows, maybe I was on that flight for a reason; if I hadn’t been there, things could have gone differently.
Wednesday, 13 February 1991
It was 17:45 when Charlotte pulled up in front of the barracks. I was waiting outside and she tossed me the keys. She had alerted Captain Hillman’s crew nearly an hour ago. By the time I dropped her off at the main billeting quarters, where I picked up Candid the crew’s copilot; Karen, aka Mellow Yellow; and Sandy, part of the mission crew, and then returned to the new quarters, everyone else was waiting to head down to ops.
I checked off the names on my list as the remainder of the crew boarded: Rollin, the AMT; Darwin, the Eng; Captain Hillman, the Pilot; Beebop, the Nav; Stopwatch, the MCC; and the rest of the mission crew: Topper, Able, Max, Tommy, and Steve.
I was sure glad I wasn’t on this crew. They looked downright glum. It was most likely due to Stopwatch’s presence. He was a definite anal-retentive SOB. He was the type of person that made flying a miserable chore just because he was in a sour mood. And since it was fairly safe to say he hadn’t gotten laid in the past four weeks unless it was by Madam and her five queens, he was surely in a fire-pissing mood.
The drive to ops went quickly. “Cheer up!” I told Tommy and Able as they piled out of the van. “Things could be worse; you could find out you have to work MPC after flying all day.”
The ops center was quiet when I entered. The duty officer was playing Tetris on a Gameboy. He didn’t even look up when I put the keys to the van on the key rack.
“Get with Ray,” he said when I was about to sit down. “He’ll show you how to break out the ATO for tomorrow’s lines.”
I shot him a hard glance. I was still a little bitter about having to work twelve full hours yesterday after a flight. He didn’t even see it. He was still playing Tetris. I asked, “Where is he?”
“Lounge, I’d expect.”
I glanced at the big board. “There’s a preflight crew that has to go out to the plane in thirty.”
“Well, you got thirty minutes, don’t you?”
I left the room and found Ray in the lounge quickly afterward. He was watching CNN. “You want to help me break out the ATO?” I asked.
“Relax,” Ray said, “we got all evening.”
“The LT said—”
“Sisco’s got some problems back home; just stay out of his way. Take a break when you can get it. Daytime MPC’s hell sometimes. No reason night MPC should be unless you want it that way.”
He’d just shown me how to wind my gears down from the high intensity and high anxiety of flying to a low gear and a calmer pace. “Hey, thanks, Ray. That’s good advice.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
I sat down and tried to relax. The couch against my backside felt good when I wasn’t all tensed up waiting to go fly.
Thirty minutes sped by and soon it was time to take the Eng and the AMT out to the plane for preflight. Rollin and Darwin gave me a better flight line orientation than I’d gotten yesterday; riding in the back was different from riding up front.
When I returned, Ray and I broke out the Air Tasking Orders for the next day’s lines. The tasking orders contained the pertinent information for the flights, including the packages they’d be supporting. They were highly
It was after 06:00 the next morning before I finally got to get some sleep—nothing like working a twelve-hour night after a twelve-hour day. By the time I reached my room, I could’ve slept standing up. Even so, upon reflection, had I the chance to do it again, I still would’ve flown. Who knows, maybe I was on that flight for a reason; if I hadn’t been there, things could have gone differently.
Wednesday, 13 February 1991
It was 17:45 when Charlotte pulled up in front of the barracks. I was waiting outside and she tossed me the keys. She had alerted Captain Hillman’s crew nearly an hour ago. By the time I dropped her off at the main billeting quarters, where I picked up Candid the crew’s copilot; Karen, aka Mellow Yellow; and Sandy, part of the mission crew, and then returned to the new quarters, everyone else was waiting to head down to ops.
I checked off the names on my list as the remainder of the crew boarded: Rollin, the AMT; Darwin, the Eng; Captain Hillman, the Pilot; Beebop, the Nav; Stopwatch, the MCC; and the rest of the mission crew: Topper, Able, Max, Tommy, and Steve.
I was sure glad I wasn’t on this crew. They looked downright glum. It was most likely due to Stopwatch’s presence. He was a definite anal-retentive SOB. He was the type of person that made flying a miserable chore just because he was in a sour mood. And since it was fairly safe to say he hadn’t gotten laid in the past four weeks unless it was by Madam and her five queens, he was surely in a fire-pissing mood.
The drive to ops went quickly. “Cheer up!” I told Tommy and Able as they piled out of the van. “Things could be worse; you could find out you have to work MPC after flying all day.”
The ops center was quiet when I entered. The duty officer was playing Tetris on a Gameboy. He didn’t even look up when I put the keys to the van on the key rack.
“Get with Ray,” he said when I was about to sit down. “He’ll show you how to break out the ATO for tomorrow’s lines.”
I shot him a hard glance. I was still a little bitter about having to work twelve full hours yesterday after a flight. He didn’t even see it. He was still playing Tetris. I asked, “Where is he?”
“Lounge, I’d expect.”
I glanced at the big board. “There’s a preflight crew that has to go out to the plane in thirty.”
“Well, you got thirty minutes, don’t you?”
I left the room and found Ray in the lounge quickly afterward. He was watching CNN. “You want to help me break out the ATO?” I asked.
“Relax,” Ray said, “we got all evening.”
“The LT said—”
“Sisco’s got some problems back home; just stay out of his way. Take a break when you can get it. Daytime MPC’s hell sometimes. No reason night MPC should be unless you want it that way.”
He’d just shown me how to wind my gears down from the high intensity and high anxiety of flying to a low gear and a calmer pace. “Hey, thanks, Ray. That’s good advice.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
I sat down and tried to relax. The couch against my backside felt good when I wasn’t all tensed up waiting to go fly.
Thirty minutes sped by and soon it was time to take the Eng and the AMT out to the plane for preflight. Rollin and Darwin gave me a better flight line orientation than I’d gotten yesterday; riding in the back was different from riding up front.
When I returned, Ray and I broke out the Air Tasking Orders for the next day’s lines. The tasking orders contained the pertinent information for the flights, including the packages they’d be supporting. They were highly
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