Sunday, March 17, 1996

OJE - Our Tour Of The Med comes to an End

 15 March 1996

Day five of the American Hostage crisis.

 

Four days so far of seeing the tops of clouds, being cold, seeing garden spots of the Mediterranean in the rain or at night. I had to wash out a pair of socks and underwear to get through today (Can I bitch any more? Haha!)

We’re already hearing our fate once we get back to Ramstein – we’ve flown five days already so we shouldn’t expect much work when we get back. Saturday will be Alert crew and Sunday will be Duty Crew. Monday will be our first time off, but all of that will be taken up by sleep as I have the 7 PM Sunday night to 7 AM Monday morning shift as Duty Officer. At about 1530 Monday afternoon, we go into Crew Rest to fly Tuesday morning. This is an exhausting schedule!

Today was a reverse of yesterday‘s mission, with much less excitement. The ride out to the airplane was just as entertaining – I’ve decided that I need to figure a way to turn driving around Naples into a computer video game. I’ll make a fortune! It was a beautiful morning, and everyone was out in force – lots of beautiful women all hurrying to work.

The first stop in our odyssey was Olbia, Sardinia. Winds were forecast light and variable – halfway across to Sardinia. We had a 50 kt headwind that would persist all day. We got to Olbia, and the airport was below minimums, so they wouldn’t let us land - another big deviation from the weather brief we had just received not three hours earlier!

We sat up in a holding pattern over the smell Smeralda TACAN and practice drilling holes in the sky for about half an hour, checked the forecast again, and press on down to Sigonella.

At Sigonella, we downloaded our Oblia cargo and uploaded cargo and pax (a Navy Commander and his family going Space-A to Germany for vacation) and anticipated an early return to Ramstein.

It was not to be. Roma Control gave us a slot time for takeoff of 1356 Zulu, which meant we had to sit and wait an additional hour and 20 minutes before they could work us into their traffic flow control. Back to Wendy’s and another two cups of cappuccino!

Once we did takeoff, the flight looked pretty short – 3-1/2 hours up to Ramstein, clear weather all the way, cleared as filed. Naturally, it didn’t stay that way. For some reason the station controller decided to deviated us off our flight plan an extra 15 minutes to detour us across Alghero, which is the west of Corsica, then back to the east onto our planed route up to Nice, Dijon and Lyon. The Alps were spectacular again, especially in the fading sunlight washing east across it craggy peaks and ridges.

Boy was I happy to touchdown in Germany again and put an end to our five days on the road. I really looked forward to a couple of German beers, some deep sleep, and clean laundry.

When we got back to Sembach, a bunch of us showered and went down to the Club for a couple of cold ones. Naturally, the stories were flying, especially about our guy and his mis-directions. With each beer, things got louder and more heated - each person trying to out-embellish the other. Aldo and I started talking to Dale about his decision to leave the Reserves after the ORI in October. One thing led to another till we were all yelling at each other – Dale blaming us for Enzo Grilli still being in the unit after he (Dale) had busted him on a check ride, Aldo blaming Dale for all future deaths from 737 crashes due to unknown causes (Dale works for the FAA), and… me calling Dale a “quitter” because he was using Enzo as his excuse for leaving the unit. It all got to the point of absurdity as evidenced by this snippet of educated conversation:

“Well, f*ck you!”

“Oh yeah? Well, F*ck you!!”

“No, F*ck YOU!” <Beer gives you suck a wonderful vocabulary! Hahaha!>

… and I grew tired of it all, so I called it a night and went back to my room through bitter cold to welcome a VERY deep sleep.

 

Friday, March 15, 1996

OJE: Naples - Sigonella - Sardinia - Naples

 Breakfast was a free feed at the top of the Jolly Hotel – the 30th floor overlooking the heart of the port of Naples with a high castle from 14th to 16th century as the centerpiece. It was a magnificent view. Naples has roughly the same land area as Pittsburgh, but 10 times the people! For the most part, the billings and streets are ancient with no for thought to urban planning. It’s pure chaos and really looks like a fun place to live. 

Today’s mission was to fly from Naples to Sigonella to Olbia, Sardinia, and back to Naples – one big triangle around the western Mediterranean.

On engine start, we encountered problems: #2, and #4 starter control valves. After several attempts we realize we we’re broke, and the hunt is on! This time it’s not hard to find – a broken wire – unfortunately maintenance support is sparse at Naples and it takes a while to coax a soldering tool and some solder and flux. Then it dawns on the Navy folks that we may need an extension cord or power generator that reaches out to the airplane to power the soldering iron! They were lots of help.

After we get the wire fixed, we were good to go! We head on down to Sigonella. These flights aren’t boring. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. On the way down another Herk C-130 calls up saying he’s on a low level to an air drop to Sigonella, and that we need to hurry and get out of this way! Daryl‘s reply is that we will land as soon as possible with the prevailing controllers. And of course, the controllers hold us up as long as possible before dumping us over the base. We scream down from for a touchdown and a taxi off the active and over to parking. The Base Ops (ground control) asked us when we will have our engine shut down (after we stop would be a good bet!) before we even clear the taxiway. We shut down about 30 seconds after the Herk’s TOT and I go out outside and see that they ‘no dropped.’ I couldn’t believe it. The parking ramp is about half a mile from the PI, and the time of fall (TTF) from a plane as high as they were dropping (looked about 2000’ AGL) would have to be at least two minutes, which means there is no way they could’ve landed on our spinning propellers.

The Herk came around for a live pass and dropped his jumpers. They were seals or something because they had square chutes and just hung in the air, circling for at least five minutes before finally touching down. More excitement.

On the approach to land, the #3 tac generator gauge had gone haywire. We were on final approach so we just continued the approach and landed. Luckily, with Sigonella being a P-3 base, they have lots of spares on hand as the P-3 uses the same engines as a C-130.

I hit Wendy’s for another cappuccino while maintenance in the loadmaster did their thing. We grabbed lunch and I walked down to the base bank and grab some cash out of the ATM, then exchanged some for Lira at an exchange machine across from the terminal. Then it was off to Olbia. 

The route to the north east coast of Sardinia was across Sicily to Palermo and direct to Oblia. Once again, we got rerouted the long way to keep us on airways, so after Palermo it was due west to the south of Sardinia and then up the coast. The weather was terrible at Oblia. We shot a true instrument approach, and I backed it up with an ARA, as there was significant terrain all around the airfield.

We broke out of a driving rain storm right at the last second, and Conrad, who really had delayed his descent to stay away from the dirt, had to really dive at the runway to get the plane down. But he did and we landed fine.

Oblia was a mess. We just taxied down to a wide spot in the taxi way, pulled off and unloaded our cargo. Daryl and I took turns running out into the weeds to piss, then we buttoned up, taxi out and flew back out the way we came in, then headed east to Naples. 

Back in Naples, it was another night at the Jolly Hotel; this time we bypassed the house restaurant and went looking for a local bistro that Randy Curcio and Mark had found in their nocturnal wanderings the night before. Needless to say, they couldn’t find it and we ended up in a terrific little pizzeria just behind the hotel. I had a nice pizza with onions, peppers, and garlic, along with a big bottle of red wine. Delicious! Way too much food on this trip! After dinner, it was off to bed and rest for the final day of our odyssey.

Thursday, March 14, 1996

OJE - Sigonella - Souda Bay - Naples

 Wednesday

Today was our longest day. I guess it was to make up for how easy yesterday was supposed to be. We also figured out that instead of four days. This is a five-day trip – the schedule is written screwy, and if you analyze what they have us doing, we decided we couldn’t/wouldn’t get everything done. They talked us into going on Thursday. We called the European office center and sure enough five days!

Today’s mission was to haul cargo and passengers to Souda Bay, Crete, return to Sigonella, and then go up to Naples to spend the night.

Nothing is easy flying in the Med. No one has radar coverage down there; they only know where you are by the time you report over a point and when you estimate you’ll be at your next point, so they will not let you go anywhere straight – you have to fly established Airways even if it means going miles out of your way to get on there. We had to fly halfway up the shoe of Italy before we could head down to the southeast towards Crete.

Souda Bay is in the northwest corner of Crete – looks like an airfield carved out of the moon and transplanted into the poorest section of Central America. Really backwards. I guess the Navy has P3 operations out of there – but what a hole to live in. Hopefully the living areas are better than the airfield itself. Souda was cold and rainy, so we didn’t spend much time on the ground.

Going back in to Sigonella, the Italian controller went spastic on us – we had 6000 rounds of 9 mm ammo, and he refused us permission to land. We went into the holding pattern for about 10 minutes while the Navy worked out the wrinkles and then we landed. We taxied over to the hot cargo ramp to offload the ammo. That’s when the Pax got their first clue they had been sitting next to high explosives the past 2 1/2 hours. Raised a few eyebrows!

After a long cappuccino break, we headed up to Naples again – our takeoff delayed by Rome, being unable to accept us into their flow for another hour!

Once again, we took off late in the afternoon, and flew into Naples just after the sun went down. Beautiful city with all its lights reflecting on the water, though the sky was a bit hazy from either pollution or a temperature inversion.

We stayed again at the Jolly Hotel, but this time decided to eat in the hotel restaurant. What a huge mistake – the serving team was openly hostile to our showing up, and took so long to service and provide our bills that I, for one, was ready for breakfast.

Dinner did provide one true highlight of the trip…

One of the guys knew that a girl he worked with back home was going to be in Naples visiting her fiancé.

Apparently, the fiancé would be out of town this night, so he was really looking forward to hooking up for a wild night. The anticipation had built up all day, reaching its’ peak when we got to the hotel.

So, while all the rest of us went upstairs to suffer through dinner, he called this girl and gave her directions to our hotel (he had found the address in a brochure of all the Jolly Hotels he picked up from the front counter). Then he proceeded to wait … and wait … and wait.

It took about two hours before the light went on in the big head where the blood circulation was slowly returning. With sickening trepidation, he checked the address he had given this girl who was certain to provide him a “sure-fire good time all night long.” To his horror, he discovered the address he had given her was to the Jolly Hotel in Milan, not Naples - only 600 miles off!

He practically lunged for the phone to call her and hopefully salvage something for the evening, but to no avail – the ‘sure thing’ was still out driving around the streets of Naples searching for a non-existent street. Completely chagrined, he left a message and waited.  About 45 minutes later he got a steamed phone call. She was NOT a happy camper! The evening was ruined, and he was miserable when he found us at the hotel bar.

It was classic! Naturally, we thought it was hilarious, and everyone on the crew just rubbed it in – salt in the wounds of a whipped dog! We offered to chip in and pay for a couple of porn flicks to tide him through his tragedy, but he could not be consoled: even though we would be back to Naples Thursday night, her boyfriend would be too!

Wednesday, March 13, 1996

OJE - Aviano to Sigonella NAS

 Today was supposed to be one gravy day. A quick blast down to Sigonella NAS on Sicily – a two hour flight that would put us on a deck by noon with plenty of time to tour around. Guess what?

As we performed our Before Engines Start checks, the flight engineer, Dale Hoth press-to-test his nacell overheat lights and got no response from #2 - not good – you can’t tell if things go bad in a #2 engine and a fire broke out – the first indication would be a fire on #1, and by then the entire wing would be engulfed. Tough to fly on one wing.

So, he and the maintenance troops immediately went into search mode, looking for the problem. We hung around for a while, shivering in a cold cockpit, but as the easy solutions proved innocent, Darrell, Conrad, and I grabbed a shuttle bus and went over to the snack bar to get some coffee and stay warm.

As luck would have it, the cappuccino machine that was out of order yesterday was now fixed, so we savored a round or two of the frothy stuff – waiting around as our day slipped away.

Finally, they found a busted wire on a temperature probe. With some help from Aviano‘s electric shop, they were able to fix it and get things buttoned up in relatively short order.

We all jumped in our seats, rushed around to get checklists re-accomplished and get the hell out of Dodge. Just as we asked for permission to start engines, an F-16 on a nearby munitions loading ramp next to the control tower declared an emergency when a 2000 pound bomb fell off one of its shackles and sat there dangling beneath the plane. That immediately ceased all operations at the airfield. We couldn’t start, and the tower said to be prepared to evacuate our airplane, depending on the severity of the incident.

finally, after about 45 tense minutes, things calm down enough for us to start up, taxi out and takeoff – now 1630 in the afternoon!

Two hours later, we were flying past Mount Etna, watching the steam rising from its peak, marveling at the people living immediately below. Again, we landed just after sunset. It took over an hour to download our cargo, refuel for Wednesday, and hang around till the crew bus picked us up.

The drive into Catania was interesting – the base seems to be out in the middle of nowhere, and the closest town with lodging, a good 45 minutes away.

Italian driving was very impressive – people wanted to pass? Everyone just moves over and lets them go down the middle – something that would be unheard of in the States. The basic philosophy in close quarter driving is whoever has the bigger car, or has a nose out front first, or has greater courage, gets the right away!

How they survive is beyond me, but everyone knows the rules that can drive to them – fascinating to watch.

We stayed at the Jolly Hotel – must be a big chain because they’re expensive hotels and all over Italy and southern Europe. The price was $80 a night and the room was little bigger than out master bath– a single bed with a small walkway between it in the closet. A vanity with a TV on it. Italian television is the boring I’ve ever seen - nothing but game shows and old talk show all night long! There were four pay channels where you could get movies, but they were over a year old and expensive.

Dinner was around the corner at the American Café – we were the only ones in the place. Now it’s 9 o’clock and we have three servers hurrying all over us. One girl is very tight jeans was our favorite – didn’t speak a bit of English, but we didn’t mind a bit – it was nice to just watch her maneuver. I had another spaghetti dish, a beef steak, salad, and red wine. Delicious!

Tuesday, March 12, 1996

OJE - Off to the Med!

 Monday & Tuesday, March 11 & 12, 1996

I didn’t sleep at all! I ran 3 miles after dinner and then made what I thought was decaf coffee and I think the combination of a really screwed up circadian clock, caffeine, and enhanced metabolic rate served to keep me wide awake. Six hours of tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling! At 2:50 AM, I really felt agony.

The day was that and more. We flew down to Aviano, dropped cargo off and got some more. While the Loadmasters (Archie Branton, Mark Tarnowski) loaded, Dale Hoth (F.E.), Daryl Hartman, Conrad Witalis (pilots) and I went over to the snack bar near the flight line, for cappuccinos. By this time, I’m a hurting dog.  The effects of being awake over 24 hours again is kicking in. I looked and felt like dog shit. The guys were making sure I suffered in public too: they dragged me incessantly! At that point I didn’t really care too much. I was just enduring the pain.

The weather in Aviano was clear and cold – the mountains were magnificent! I found Polcinego on the chart, but on the approach in, I failed to ID the town. Too many clusters of villages with staples to pick one out without a little time and concentration. I would love to have a little time here to grab a car and drive out there. See the house; Polcinego; go see if the Brevins were still there…

Tuesday... 

We took off out of Aviano around 10:30 and flew down to the eastern coast of Italy to Brindisi, and then out over the water to Greece to an airfield on the far western tip of the Peloponnesian archipelago called Araxos. It was rainy and cold when we got there, so we pretty much sat in the airplane while they reloaded. I did go outside and walk around the plane, just to be able to say I’ve been in Greece. It wasn’t much, but it was something. I did the same thing in Sarajevo last time. I was there: “Been there - done that!”

After the upload, we flew back the way we came, all the way back to Aviano to spend the night. We got in just after sunset so there wasn’t much to see of the local countryside. As is usually the case on these trips, we called about 100 miles (25 minutes) out and reminded them we were coming. When we got into parking, we still had to wait a good half hour in the cold for a bus to pick us up. Then they drove us to the support area where the billeting office and O-club is, just to be told we had to go over to Pordenone to the east! So, we didn’t get to the hotel until about 8:15 PM. Stayed at the Park Hotel.

For dinner, we walked down the street to a small pizzeria where we had the place all to ourselves. I had a nice plate of Spaghetti Bolognese and some red wine. It was delicious. Very nice way to start off a trip!

Sunday, March 10, 1996

OJE Day 2+ In-processing

 Sunday

I had a pretty decent hangover going into Sunday morning. The rooms are nice but too warm and I was triple dehydrated – airplane flight, beer, and heat. I made some instant coffee and made my way down to the “in-brief“ by the 86th AW (the host Active Duty unit at Ramstein). What a waste of time! Standard stuff: “Don’t drink and drive; Have safe sex; Parking is a nightmare; the Family Support Center has German classes (we’re here for 3 weeks?); This is the first time we’ve worked with the Reserves; German driving is not for the faint of heart…” etc.

Vice commander actually got up and said that “On-time takeoffs are the priority of the local General,” and (I quote), “Don’t let safety compromise an on-time takeoff!” We assume he got that backwards, but what if he didn’t? Can you imagine anyone saying that in public?

After an endless array of briefings - about half are relevant - we all had to file down to the CQ desk in the building where the 50 AS was staying, check out two cars per crew, and drive over to Ramstein so we would know how to get there (and back) on our own. Ramstein is about 40 minutes away from Sembach, where we’re staying, so the plan is to alert us by phone and have us drive ourselves to the base by the Autobahn. That should be interesting. We’ll see how many guys end up in Paris the first morning.

After some quick folder and local procedure study in the Tactics vault, we blew over to the BX for some lunch and an intro tour. Nice facility, but that’s what happens when a General comes to live on your base.

We found out we’re flying the Mediterranean floater mission starting Monday morning. Four days of flying around Italy and places south, delivering cargo and mail. Lots of guys are envious because they’ll pretty much be sitting on their butts that first week since the 50th is still trying to get its boys (and girls) medal sorties (What a crock!). Alert time is 3:15 AM.

Wednesday, March 6, 1996

Operation Joint Endeavor Begins

 6 March 1996

Once again, I’m out on the road – refreshing myself one more time why I don’t want to do this flying thing as a full-time profession. The Bosnians sat down in Dayton last fall and hammered out a peace agreement. We (United States) sent in 20,000 troops to act as peacekeepers, and I volunteered to fly a rotation (two weeks) of supplies into the AOR (area of responsibility) when the Reserves and the Guard spell the Active Duty. I don’t know why I set certain expectations of these trips - they never end up being anything like they are advertised.

I called up daily for about two weeks prior, asking what had changed and what I needed to do, if anything, to get ready. Nothing. I saw on the “board” I had a 1300L showtime for a 1600 takeoff. That sounded like it sucked but they have quiet hours in Germany and you can’t land between 2200 and 0600. The trip over takes 12 hours, so you’re limited when you can take off in order to land at an acceptable time. I wasn’t looking forward to that much time in the airplane, but I was excited to go over and participate.

 Naturally, when I showed up things had changed (what else is new?) I double parked my car to unload my bags; when I walked through the door to the squadron, Darius Pierzadeh, the SOF (Supervisor of Flying), told me I was late for a briefing! (What’s this?? An unscheduled briefing? Imagine that)

The briefing was a bunch of people from finance and Intel, giving us all the things we “needed to know” before we deployed. Basically, we wasted an hour of our mission planning time learning not to have unprotected sex, and that we would get paid while we were gone. (THAT part was important!)

We eventually ended up at the airplane, did our preflight and checks, started engines and taxied out for takeoff. On the way out, the local news organizations were out in force, filming their local boys going off to war. I didn’t make it on camera, but Daryl Hartman and Dale Hoth both got their 15 seconds of fame.

So, we taxied out, did the enhanced alignment, and started our takeoff. Right after lift off (on time), the pilot, Conrad Witalis, called for gear retraction. The left main gear indicated it had stayed down.

After a quick conference, we recycled the gear (probably not the best idea) down and back up, but had no success. So we called back to Pitt Ops, told them to fuel the Spare, and flew a box pattern back to an uneventful landing.

The Bag drag took about an hour, including downloading and uploading pallets to the new airplane. There were some considerable discussions of stopping along the way and spending the night somewhere on the East Coast, or perhaps going to Keflavik in Iceland. In the end, we decided to be mission hackers; get off if we could by 1800 and proceed as planned: fly up to St. Johns, Newfoundland for refueling, and then head east into the night towards Germany. it was a decision I’d like to do over.

The trip up to St. Johns was pretty uneventful. Four hours watching the US pass beneath us and turn into Canada. We’re heading north east, so it got dark pretty quickly. By the time we landed and taxied in, I felt like I had put in a long day and we weren’t even halfway done yet!

Someone had prepositioned a Youngstown plane up at St. John’s with a maintenance kit. They were to sit there till all the planes pass through, then press on across themselves. Our two-hour delay really helped their crew duty day too. In fact, as soon as we touched down and reported no major problems, they were on the radio asking for clearance to takeoff.

Unfortunately, they didn’t wait till we refueled and started up again. The unique thing about machinery is that things do not normally break during use. Somethings do and it can be catastrophic. Usually, especially with airplanes, it’s when you shake things back to life after a shutdown that things shear and break. This was no exception. We gassed and started things up to takeoff and immediately ran into trouble – The flaps went asymmetrical - one went up and the other stayed locked down – not a good thing to try and takeoff with! As with most mechanical things on the airplane, I’m pretty clueless – they didn’t give us any training on how planes fly – reserve that for pilots and flight engineers – I just concentrate on what happens once the airplane is in the air. The more I fly, the more I wish I knew more, but it works out – with three “experts” on board things generally get figured out pretty quickly and accurately.

Anyway, it wasn’t looking pretty. It was late, and we were fast approaching the end of our crew duty day (Max time you are allowed to operate airplanes in a single day: the time from show at the Squadron until you land and taxi in at your destination) – taking off later than about 25 minutes hence would mean we would still be flying well after the 1200Z drop dead time for our 18-hour crew duty day. We started shutting things down and resigning ourselves that we were going to spend the night in St. Johns when the maintenance Crew Chief called up to say, “Try it again!” He had literally banged on the side of some piece of equipment and got it to come un-lodged.

The Pilot cycled the flaps and they worked! We debate the wisdom of pressing on, but decided that if they stuck down on takeoff, we’d just come back to St. John’s called it a night. If they wouldn’t come down for landing, we’d land flaps-up; either way, there was no reason not to try it at least once… so we decide to press on. And we did.

Take off was uneventful. The thing I didn’t like about leaving St. Johns is that after takeoff, you’re immediately out over the water and heading east. I REALLY enjoy having about an hour or so after takeoff to evaluate my navigation systems. Take some fixes and get a nice warm feeling that it will stay tight until you reach the English coast, six hours away! We (Aldo Filoni, the other Pittsburgh navigator) took a handheld GPS with us to back up the SCNS, so it wasn’t too disconcerting, but I still like the warm fuzzies of an hour of land under my feet, just in case. (Age old adage: Nobody cares about the Nav until you get lost!)

The trip across seemed to go on forever. I’m pretty sure no one slept in that morning, so we were pretty beat up by the time we left Newfoundland. There wasn’t much to do going across, but make position reports every 10° of longitude, which was about every hour. I took one celestial shot about halfway across to check the accuracy of the SCNS and GPS – one more check to verify their information – plus ensure the airplane had a good system. Everything was where it was supposed to be so I decided that since I had five satellite telling me I was where I thought I was, I could relax. I concentrated on periodic updates of the SCNS off the GPS and trying to stay awake.


Coffee was flowing pretty heavily. I had stopped at 7-ELEVEN on the way to the base and found some vanilla flavored Folgers instant. Conrad Witalis, our young Aircraft Commander, brought some French Vanilla International Moments Instant Coffee, and Dale Hoth, the Flight Engineer, brought a small French press and some Starbucks – we were awash in Java and needed every bit of it.

The Youngstown airplane was about 45 minutes ahead of us, flying a course just south of ours. We had them on the air-to-air TACAN and for the most part they stayed about 200 miles ahead of us. The sun came up about 0430 Z which was about halfway across the pond. It was very pretty being that high and seeing the horizon turn into a red glow and then explode as the sun lifted itself out of the clouds in the distance.

As we crossed the English coast, the clouds below broke up enough to see the shore and some of the countryside. We coasted in in just south of Wales and flew south of London and over to Dover. By the time we crossed by London the clouds had closed up, and we were unable to see anything below us. I had the radar so I knew where we were, but it was not the same as seeing it firsthand.

Once we got into Belgium, the deck broke up, and we began to make out the landscape below, until we got to Germany, where it was 1400 local and clear & a million, which was good because we were all dead tired, and a tricky weather approach would have been an extreme challenge.


Upon final approach, we realized that we were number two behind the Youngstown airplane that had taken off in such a hurry 45 minutes in front of us! Evidently, they had taken a detour through France, encountered some bigger headwinds than we did and lost all 45 minutes!

Just to make the flight that much more of a challenge - right before we landed, Tower made us do a 3600 turn to make way for a “Priority IFOR mission!” so we did, and then landed at long last… Only 19 hours after showtime at Pittsburgh! Total flying time (including the first takeoff), 12.4 hours!

Taxiing in was a nightmare – the base is a lot smaller than I envisioned it to be – basically one main runway, one ramp where the 37th AS (Active Duty) park their C 130s, and a small ramp in front of Base Ops for transient traffic.

We got to park in a fighter dispersal area that you have to see to believe – the taxiway is wide enough for a fighter, but is surrounded by trees. The trees are supposed to be cut back to provide 10 whole feet of clearance for C130s! It was a scary thing to taxi back into the woods, hoping you didn’t hit anything! The ramp basically looks like this:


The thing is, the base is built for fighters; yet the fighters are gone, and now they are trying to park C130s in an area that is totally unacceptable (well maybe not totally – we ARE making it work…)

Upon arrival at my hotel room (we’re staying in VOQ’s since the 50th Airlift Squadron out of Little Rock is still here), I ran into Gary Poore, a Nav from Dobbins I met last time I was here in Germany doing this. I changed clothes went over to his room had a beer, then went with him over to the 50th dorm where they were putting on a kegger.

While I was there, I ran into Burt Minor a Nav I flew with in Buffs at Griffiss. He is a contemporary of Dave Re, so a few years behind me. He is flying with Chicago right now, getting ready for that unit to shut down. Small world.

Called Laura to say I was safe and sound.