Thursday afternoon June 4, 2020
Finally getting the in Box more manageable
Thanks to Ray. My apologies that this got lost down in the mass of emails I have been sorting through
It has been my want for the past several years to send you this reflection on Memorial Day. Thank you for your noble service.
Glory gained, duty done. Ray Fitzgerald
STILL THE NOBLEST CALLING
The Wall Street Journal
May 24, 1996
I visited with three old friends recently at a park in my town. It seems like only yesterday that we were all together, but actually it had been 28 years. There was a crowd at the park that day, and it took us awhile to connect, but with the aid of a computer we made it. I found Lance at Panel 54W, line 037, Lynn over at Panel 51W, line 032, and Vince down at line 103 on Panel 27W. We were gung-ho young fighter pilots in Vietnam, the cream of the crop of the US Air Force pilot training system, and now their names are on that 250-foot-long, half-size model of the Vietnam Memorial that moves around the country. I had intentionally avoided visiting the wall when it came to town in years past, because I did not trust myself to behave in a composed manner, but after nearly three decades it was time to try for some closure on this issue. I told my wife that I preferred to go alone, if that was all right, and, truth be known, I nearly backed out at that.
Standing in front of that somber wall, I tried to keep it light, reminiscing about how things were back then. We used to joke about the psychiatric term for a passionate love affair with inanimate flying objects—we flew F-100's—and we marveled at the thought that the taxpayers actually paid us to do this "work." We were not draftees, but college graduates there by choice, opting for the cramped confines of a jet fighter cockpit over the comfort of corporate America. In all my life I've not been so passionate about any other work. If that sounds like an exaggeration, then you've never danced the wild blue with a supersonic angel.
I vividly remember the Sunday afternoon, in the summer of '68, when we flew out of Travis Air Force Base, California, on a troop transport headed for Vietnam. Lynn, Lance and I crowded around the same porthole and watched the Golden Gate Bridge disappear below broken clouds. We had gone through fighter pilot school together and had done some serious bonding. In an exceedingly rare moment of youthful fighter pilot humility, I wondered if I would live to see that bridge again. For reasons I still don't understand, I was the only one of the three who did.
Once in Vietnam, we passed the long, lonely off-duty hours at Dusty's Pub, a lounge that we lieutenants built on the beach of the South China Sea at Tuy Hoa Air Base. The roof at Dusty's doubled as a sun deck and the walls were non-existent. The complaint heard most often around the bar, in the standard gallows humor of a combat squadron, was that it was "...a lousy war, but it's the only one we have." (I've cleaned up the language a bit.) We sang mostly raunchy songs that never seemed to end—someone was always writing new verses—and, as an antidote to loneliness, fear in the night, and the sadness over dead friends, we often drank too much.
Vince joined us at Dusty's Pub halfway through my tour of duty, and since he was a like-minded country kid from Montana, we hit it off. He had a wide grin, slightly stooped shoulders, and his own way of walking—he just threw his feet out and stepped on them. But what he lacked in military bearing he made up for with the heart of a tiger. He often flew as my wingman, and we volunteered for the night missions on the Ho Chi Minh Trail. One starless night, the longest, saddest night of my life, we got into a really nasty gun duel with some anti-aircraft artillery batteries. I watched Vince die in a mushroom shaped fireball that for a moment turned night into day.
Lance—a New York boy who took unmerciful grief from the rest of us because he talked like a New Yawker—crashed into the side of a mountain in the central highlands while attacking a target. Lynn, a happy-go-lucky jock from Pennsylvania's Slippery Rock College with a hound named John the Basset, returned to his base on a stormy night in July after weather aborted his mission. Two miles of wet runway weren't enough to stop an F-100 landing at 160 knots with all it bombs still on board. He ran off the end, flipped over, and slid through the minefield at the perimeter fence, setting off a gruesome sound and light show.
At the wall, I told the guys only about the good parts of the last 28 years. Lacy, one of our associates from Dusty's Pub, became an astronaut, and a few summers ago I watched from my back yard, near Tampa, as he blasted off. His voice over the radio from space was at least an octave lower than it was the day I heard him radio for help while swinging from his parachute hung up in a tree in Laos. Another Dusty's patron, Rick, is now a two-star general, and I reminded them of what we used to say about the military promotion system—it's like a septic tank, only the really big chunks floated to the top.
I didn't tell them about how ostracized Vietnam vets are, that during that same week, one of the nation's leading newspapers has run an article that implied we Vietnam vets were, to quote one syndicated columnist, "either suckers or psychos, victims or monsters." I didn't tell them that the secretary of defense they fought for back then has now declared that he was not a believer in the cause for which he assigned them all to their destiny. I didn't tell them that a draft age kid from Arkansas, who hid out in England to dodge his duty while they were fighting and dying, is now the commander-in-chief. And I did not tell them we lost that lousy war. I gave them the same story I've used since the Nixon administration: "We were winning when I left."
I relived that final day as I stared at the black onyx wall. The dawn came up like thunder after a year and 268 combat missions in the valley of the shadow. The ground trembled as 33 F-100's roared off the runway, across the beach, and out over the South China Sea, climbing into the rising sun. On the eastern horizon a line of towering deep purple clouds stood shoulder-to-shoulder before a brilliant orange sky that slowly turned powder blue from the top down. From somewhere on that stage, above the whine of spinning turbine blades, I could hear a choir singing Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus" in fortissimo: The "...Lord God Omnipotent reigneth...," and He was bringing me home, while Lance and Lynn and Vince will remain as part of the dust of Southeast Asia until the end of time.
I was not the only one talking to the wall through tears. A leather-vested, bare-chested biker two panels to my left was in even worse shape. I backed about twenty-five yards away from the wall and sat down on the grass under a clear blue sky and mid-day sun that perfectly matched the tropical weather of the war zone. The wall, with all 58,200 names, consumed my field of vision. I tried to wrap my mind around the mega-tonnage of violence, carnage and ruined lives that it represented. Then I thought of how Vietnam was only one small war in the history of the human race, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of mankind's wickedness.
My heart felt like wax in the blazing sun, and I was on the verge of becoming a spectacle in the park. I arose and walked back up to the wall to say good-bye and ran my fingers over the engraved names—Lance and Lynn and Vince—as if I could communicate with them in some kind of spiritual Braille. I wanted them to know that God, duty, honor, and country will always remain the noblest calling. Revisionist history by the elite dodgers who are trying to justify their actions cannot change that.
I have been a productive member of society since the day I left Vietnam. I am proud of what I did there, and I am especially proud of my friends—heroes who voluntarily, enthusiastically gave their all. They demonstrated no greater love to a nation who's highbrow opinion makers are still trying to disavow them. May their names, indelibly engraved on that memorial wall, likewise be found in the Book of Life.
http://www.jdwetterling.com/_b_still_the_noblest_calling__b__97048.htm
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Thanks to Mud
The Blues back to their roots F-8F
https://www.chonday.com/5113/blueroots3/
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Humor from Carl
A sign in a shoe repair store in Vancouver reads:
We will heel you,
We will save your sole,
We will even dye for you.
A sign on a Blinds and Curtain Truck:
"Blind man driving."
On a Septic Tank Truck :
Yesterday's Meals on Wheels
At an Optometrist's Office :
"If you don't see what you're looking for,
You've come to the right place."
On a Plumber's truck :
"We repair what your husband fixed."
On another Plumber's truck :
"Don't sleep with a drip.
Call your plumber."
At a Tire Shop in Milwaukee :
"Invite us to your next blowout."
On an Electrician's truck :
"Let us remove your shorts."
In a Non-smoking Area:
"If we see smoke, we will assume you are on fire and
will take appropriate action."
On a Maternity Room door :
"Push. Push. Push."
At a Car Dealership :
"The best way to get back on your feet - miss a car payment."
Outside a Muffler Shop:
"No appointment necessary.
We hear you coming."
In a Veterinarian's waiting room :
"Be back in 5 minutes.
Sit!
Stay!"
At the Electric Company:
"We would be delighted if you send in your payment on time. However, if you don't, YOU will be de-lighted."
In a Restaurant window:
"Don't stand there and be hungry; come on in and get fed up."
In the front yard of a Funeral Home :
"Drive carefully.
We'll wait."
At a Propane Filling Station:
"Thank Heaven for little grills."
In a Chicago Radiator Shop:
"Best place in town to take a leak."
And the best one for last…
Sign on the back of another Septic Tank Truck:
"Caution - This Truck is full of Political Promises"
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AMERICAN AEROSPACE EVENTS for June 4
FIRSTS, LASTS, AND SIGNIFICANT ACCOMPLISHMENTS FOR June 4
THANKS TO HAROLD "PHIL" MYERS CHIEF HISTORIAN AIR FORCE INTELLIGENCE, SURVEILLANCE, AND RECONNAISSANCE AGENCY
1907: Corporal Edward Ward, the first NCO in the Army's new balloon organization, detailed to learn balloon manufacturing. The unit later became the Signal Corps' Aeronautical Division. (24)
1920: Congress created a new rating of "Airplane Pilot" and authorized flying pay of 50 percent above base pay. (12)
1927: Clarence D. Chamberlin and Charles A. Levine made the first nonstop flight from New York to Germany in a Bellanca 15-Wright 200 in 43 hours 49 minutes 33 seconds. They set a 3,910- mile FAI straight-line distance record by landing at Eisleben. (9) (24)
1930: Lt Apollo Soucek (USN) flew a Wright Apache to a 43,166-foot FAI altitude record at NAS Anacostia DC. (9) (24)
1931: Stunt pilot William G. Swan flew his first flight in a rocket-powered glider at Atlantic City, N.J. He climbed 100 feet and flew 1,000 feet before making a perfect landing. The glider, with 10 rockets able to produce 50 pounds of thrust each, only used one rocket for the flight. (7)
1952: KOREAN WAR. An H-19 helicopter of the 3d Air Rescue Squadron picked up a downed British pilot, encountering automatic weapons fire during the rescue. (28)
1953: REFLEX OPERATIONS. The USAF began "reflexing" B-47 wings to England on 90-day rotational training and alert duty in Europe. From 4-6 June, SAC deployed 45 B-47s in equal flights of 15 bombers from the 306 BMW at MacDill AFB to RAF Fairford, UK. On 6 June, a B-47 set a new record of 5 hours 22 minutes for the 3,120-mile flight to RAF Fairford to break the former record of 6 April 1953. (1)
Note from Skip My family was at MacDill AFB in 1957 and we lived on base pretty close to the runway and real close to the taxi way. There were large sirens on poles everywhere and one night they all came on. Pilots and their families lived above us. Before the sirens had stopped you could hear folks running around above us and then running down the stairs and out to the cars. Very shortly you could hear the first jets being started and soon they were taxiing by the house. B-47s nose to tail swinging on to the runway and blasting off one after another and it lasted for a long time. Their wives told us later they would be gone a couple months.
1954: Maj Arthur Murray flew the Bell X-1A to an unofficial record of 91,000 feet. (3) (9) (24) 1958: At Cape Canaveral, a Thor missile completed its first launch from a prototype tactical-type launcher. (6) 1959: Max Conrad set a world nonstop distance record, flying a Piper Comanche 7,683 miles from Casablanca, Africa, to Los Angeles. (24)
1963: An Atlas-E, launched from Vandenberg AFB, flew on a 4,000-mile flight down the Pacific Missile Range. Jacquelin Auriol flew a jet at 1,266 MPH to capture the 100-kilometer record from Jacquelin Cochran.
1966: Arthur Godfrey, Richard Merrill, Fred Austin, and Karl Keller flew a Jet Commander 23,333 miles around the world at a FAI record pace. They flew from New York and back in 86 hours 9 minutes at an average of 271.31 MPH. (9)
1968: Lockheed rolled out the VX-4B Hummingbird II VTOL aircraft at its plant in Marietta. (16) 1969: The Thunderbirds held their first demonstration using the F-4 Phantom. (16) (26)
1970: Flying the NF-104 modified with a rocket engine, Gen Alton D. Slay reached 104,000 feet in altitude to become the first general officer to surpass 100,000 feet. (3)
1983: At Hill AFB, F-105 Thunderchiefs made a final flyby to signal the inactivation of the last AFRES F-105 squadron. (16)
1991: Col Clarence "Dick" Anderegg and his backseater, Maj Hugh Riley, flew PACAF's last F-4 mission. They flew from Clark AB, Philippines, to Davis-Monthan AFB, Ariz., where the Phantom would be mothballed. The flight ended over a quarter of century of service for the F-4 with PACAF. (17)
1992: Operation PROVIDE HOPE. A C-141 from Charleston AFB flew the first mission in this operation since the activation of AMC to Dushanbe, Tajikistan. Between June 1992 and May 1993, AMC flew 109 missions, including 25 by commercial aircraft, to deliver 2,438 tons of cargo for the operation. (18)
1996: Lyle Schaefer, Lockheed-Martin's chief test pilot, flew the advanced-technology C-130J Hercules on its first test flight. The 6-hour 14-minute sortie launched from Dobbins ARB, Marietta. (AFNEWS, 2 Jul 96)
1997: The Air Force reached a milestone recently in advanced missile propulsion with the successful ground testing of the Variable Flow Ducted Rocket at Atlantic Research Corp., Gainesville, Va. A solid-fuel, ducted rocket engine, the VFDR increased the capabilities of conventional rockets by burning fuel-rich rocket-exhaust gases with air, thereby doubling or tripling the total energy produced by the engine (AFNEWS, 30 June).
1999: In a proposal to the NGB, the Virginia ANG suggested moving the 192 FW from Richmond IAP to Langley AFB to form a new Virginia ANG associate unit to fly the new F-22 "Raptor" along with the 1 FW when it received the aircraft. (32)
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Thanks to Ed
Becoming TOPGUN
This is a 32-minute feature about some highlights of the training of a Naval aviator, the making of Top Gun, Kansa City BBQ scenes, and a flight with the Blue Angels.
Pretty well done.
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This Day in American Military History
4 June
1876 – A mere 83 hours after leaving New York City, the Transcontinental Express train arrives in San Francisco. That any human being could travel across the entire nation in less than four days was inconceivable to previous generations of Americans. During the early 19th century, when Thomas Jefferson first dreamed of an American nation stretching from "sea to shining sea," it took the president 10 days to travel the 225 miles from Monticello to Philadelphia via carriage. Even with frequent changing of horses, the 100-mile journey from New York to Philadelphia demanded two days hard travel in a light stagecoach. At such speeds, the coasts of the continent-wide American nation were months apart. How could such a vast country ever hope to remain united? As early as 1802, Jefferson had some glimmer of an answer. "The introduction of so powerful an agent as steam," he predicted, "[to a carriage on wheels] will make a great change in the situation of man." Though Jefferson never saw a train in his lifetime, he had glimpsed the future with the idea. Within half a century, America would have more railroads than any other nation in the world. By 1869, the first transcontinental line linking the coasts was completed. Suddenly, a journey that had previously taken months using horses could be made in less than a week. Five days after the transcontinental railroad was completed, daily passenger service over the rails began. The speed and comfort offered by rail travel was so astonishing that many Americans could scarcely believe it, and popular magazines wrote glowing accounts of the amazing journey. For the wealthy, a trip on the transcontinental railroad was a luxurious experience. First-class passengers rode in beautifully appointed cars with plush velvet seats that converted into snug sleeping berths. The finer amenities included steam heat, fresh linen daily, and gracious porters who catered to their every whim. For an extra $4 a day, the wealthy traveler could opt to take the weekly Pacific Hotel Express, which offered first-class dining on board. As one happy passenger wrote, "The rarest and richest of all my journeying through life is this three-thousand miles by rail." The trip was a good deal less speedy and comfortable for passengers unwilling or unable to pay the premium fares. Whereas most of the first-class passengers traveled the transcontinental line for business or pleasure, the third-class occupants were often emigrants hoping to make a new start in the West. A third-class ticket could be purchased for only $40–less than half the price of the first-class fare. At this low rate, the traveler received no luxuries. Their cars, fitted with rows of narrow wooden benches, were congested, noisy, and uncomfortable. The railroad often attached the coach cars to freight cars that were constantly shunted aside to make way for the express trains. Consequently, the third-class traveler's journey west might take 10 or more days. Even under these trying conditions, few travelers complained. Even 10 days spent sitting on a hard bench seat was preferable to six months walking alongside a Conestoga wagon on the Oregon Trail. Railroad promotions, however, naturally focused on the speedy express trains. The arrival of the Transcontinental Express train in San Francisco on this day in 1876 was widely celebrated in the newspapers and magazines of the day. With this new express service, a businessman could leave New York City on Monday morning, spend 83 hours in relaxing comfort, and arrive refreshed and ready for work in San Francisco by Thursday evening. The powerful agent of steam had effectively shrunk a vast nation to a manageable size.
1896 – At approximately 1:30 a.m., Henry Ford test-drove his Quadricycle, the first automobile he ever designed or drove. Ford was working at the Edison Illuminating Company in Detroit at the time that he began building the Quadricycle. He had reportedly seen an article on the gasoline engine in American Machinist while in the company of friend and fellow engineer, Charles King. In King's recollection Ford claimed, "I want to build one of these." Ford employed the help of his friends in the Detroit engineering community to build an internal combustion engine on his kitchen table. It's important to note to what extent Ford was a visionary and an organizer. He was an engineer, of course, but he didn't by any means accomplish his engineering feats alone. Men like King, along with a whole slew of other engineers, volunteered their time to Ford's projects. King provided Ford with a whole crew of workers who worked in the makeshift machine shop Ford had constructed in his garage behind his Bagley Avenue residence in Detroit. Ford even convinced his neighbor, Felix Julian, to donate his half of the shed to the cause. King was building his own vehicle at the time, and actually preempted Ford in testing the horseless carriage in March of 1896. Ford followed King's carriage's test run on his bicycle. Ford did make one major innovation in building his first vehicle: he decided not to attach an engine to an existing carriage, but rather to construct a four-wheel body based on the principles of bicycle manufacturing. Ford completed his "Quadricycle" early in the morning on this day in 1896. He couldn't wait to test the invention. Only one of his associates, Jim Bishop, was present at the time of the vehicle's completion. In all of his enthusiasm in getting the car together, Ford failed to consider that his contraption was wider than the doors of the shed in which he built it. He and Bishop set upon the door and adjacent walls with axes in order to hack an entrance sufficient for the Quadricycle. The 500-pound, two-cylinder vehicle came to life in the alley behind Ford's house. Ford drove it down Bagley Avenue to Grand River Avenue, to Washington Boulevard, when the Quadricycle stopped. Bishop and Ford pushed the automobile to the Edison plant, where they replaced a nut and spring that had come loose. The next month, Henry drove his vehicle to his father's farm to show it off. His father apparently walked around it cautiously. Later he expressed his doubts to one of his neighbors: "John and William (Henry's brothers) are all right, but Henry worries me. He doesn't seem to settle down, and I don't know what's going to become of him." Maybe he'll become the most powerful citizen in the country!
1939 – During what became known as the "Voyage of the Damned," the SS St. Louis, carrying more than 900 Jewish refugees from Germany, was turned away from the Florida coast. Also denied permission to dock in Cuba, the ship eventually returned to Europe. The passengers were divided among England, France, Belgium and Holland and a number of the refugees later died in Nazi concentration camps. By 2003 efforts to track their fates identified 935 out of the 937 passengers. Some 260 ended in Nazi killing centers.
1942 – Japanese Admiral Chuichi Nagumo, commander of the fleet that attacked Pearl Harbor, launches a raid on Midway Island with almost the entirety of the Japanese navy. As part of a strategy to widen its sphere of influence and conquest, the Japanese set their sights on an island group in the central Pacific, Midway, as well as the Aleutians, off the coast of Alaska. They were also hoping to draw the badly wounded U.S. navy into a battle, determined to finish it off. The American naval forces were depleted: The damaged carrier Yorktown had to be repaired in a mere three days, to be used along with the Enterprise and Hornet, all that was left in the way of aircraft carriers after the bombing at Pearl Harbor. On the morning of June 4, Admiral Nagumo launched his first strike with 108 aircraft, and did significant damage to U.S. installations at Midway. The Americans struck back time and again at Japanese ships, but accomplished little real damage, losing 65 of their own aircraft in their initial attempts. But Nagumo underestimated the tenacity of both Admiral Chester Nimitz and Admiral Raymond Spruance, commanders of the American forces. He also miscalculated tactically by ordering a second wave of bombers to finish off what he thought was only a remnant of American resistance (the U.S. forces had been able to conceal their position because of reconnaissance that anticipated the Midway strike) before his first wave had sufficient opportunity to rearm. A fifth major engagement by 55 U.S. dive-bombers took full advantage of Nagumo's confused strategy, and sunk three of the four Japanese carriers, all cluttered with aircraft and fuel trying to launch another attack against what they now realized-too late–was a much larger American naval force than expected. A fourth Japanese carrier, the Hiryu was crippled, but not before its aircraft finished off the noble American Yorktown. The attack on Midway was an unmitigated disaster for the Japanese, resulting in the loss of 322 aircraft and 3,500 men. They were forced to withdraw from the area before attempting even a landing on the island they sought to conquer.
Congressional Medal of Honor Citations for Actions Taken This Day
*DAVID, ALBERT LEROY
Rank and organization: Lieutenant, Junior Grade, U.S. Navy. Born: 18 July 1902, Maryville, Mo. Accredited to: Missouri. Other Navy award: Navy Cross with gold star. Citation: For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty while attached to the U.S.S. Pillsbury during the capture of an enemy German submarine off French West Africa, 4 June 1944. Taking a vigorous part in the skillfully coordinated attack on the German U-505 which climaxed a prolonged search by the Task Group, Lt. (then Lt. j.g.) David boldly led a party from the Pillsbury in boarding the hostile submarine as it circled erratically at 5 or 6 knots on the surface. Fully aware that the U-boat might momentarily sink or be blown up by exploding demolition and scuttling charges, he braved the added danger of enemy gunfire to plunge through the conning tower hatch and, with his small party, exerted every effort to keep the ship afloat and to ass1st the succeeding and more fully equipped salvage parties in making the U-505 seaworthy for the long tow across the Atlantic to a U.S. port. By his valiant service during the first successful boarding and capture of an enemy man-o-war on the high seas by the U.S. Navy since 1815, Lt. David contributed materially to the effectiveness of our Battle of the Atlantic and upheld the highest traditions of the U.S. Naval Service.
*BARKER, CHARLES H.
Rank and organization: Private First Class (then Pvt.), U.S. Army, Company K, 17th Infantry Regiment, 7th Infantry Division. Place and date: Near Sokkogae, Korea, 4 June 1953. Entered service at: Pickens County, S.C. Born: 12 April 1935, Pickens County, S.C. G.O. No.: 37, 7 June 1955. Citation: Pfc. Barker, a member of Company K, distinguished himself by conspicuous gallantry and indomitable courage above and beyond the call of duty in action against the enemy. While participating in a combat patrol engaged in screening an approach to "Pork-Chop Outpost," Pfc. Barker and his companions surprised and engaged an enemy group digging emplacements on the slope. Totally unprepared, the hostile troops sought cover. After ordering Pfc. Barker and a comrade to lay down a base of fire, the patrol leader maneuvered the remainder of the platoon to a vantage point on higher ground. Pfc. Barker moved to an open area firing his rifle and hurling grenades on the hostile positions. As enemy action increased in volume and intensity, mortar bursts fell on friendly positions, ammunition was in critical supply, and the platoon was ordered to withdraw into a perimeter defense preparatory to moving back to the outpost. Voluntarily electing to cover the retrograde movement, he gallantly maintained a defense and was last seen in close hand-to-hand combat with the enemy. Pfc. Barker's unflinching courage, consummate devotion to duty, and supreme sacrifice enabled the patrol to complete the mission and effect an orderly withdrawal to friendly lines, reflecting lasting glory upon himself and upholding the highest traditions of the military service.
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