Read Online Afterburners by William Robert Stanek - Free Book Online
Authors: William Robert Stanek
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undercarriage for foreign objects. You’ll know when we’re there.” This was his third day and he seemed the expert, so we all sort of listened. He reminded me of someone stuck in the seventies, listening to the sound of Saturday Night Fever playing over and over in his mind.
I’d find out real soon that in combat the people you thought you knew well you didn’t; those you knew hardly at all, you’d come to know a little better; and that everyone copes with stress in different ways. PBJ, our MCS who was scared to death, would turn out to be one hell of a guy and a good friend—it’d be just those first couple of days that we’d find it hard to resist the urge to strangle him.
With one final lurch, the van came to a halt. We could see the plane out the window now, so we knew we’d arrived. The ten-minute ride out to the flight line had seemed a lifetime, and for some it had been.
A sense of closeness to fate triggered something and everyone started talking. Then the crew van door was sliding open and Happy was yelling, “Everyone out!”
We piled out as soldiers going to war, heads held high, scurrying with our bags, our survival vests fitted, the .38s holstered within, to the plane.
Up the stairs through the crew entrance door we went, filing into our assigned seats. I was on Six, my home away from home, away from home. We began the usual preflight checks, the checks most of us had done a hundred times before, except it wasn’t the same. Our helmets would stay on for this flight. We wouldn’t switch to headset as we would have under normal conditions. The parachutes in our seats needed to be fitted; that wasn’t usual. The .38s in our holsters needed to be loaded; that wasn’t usual.
Our AMT, John, and the newlywed, Craig, fitted their chutes. They didn’t take them off for the entire flight. Those bottom straps are so snug they cut off the circulation to your privates after a time, and I could only imagine how that must have felt by wheels down.
Foam ear plugs stuffed into ears, aircrew helmets on, mikes in front of our mouths, and preflight checks completed, we strapped in. We were ready to go. The engines were roaring now and the front-end was finishing their checks.
“Crew attention to brief!” called out Captain Smily, the pilot.
I listened as he began a checklist I’d never heard before: the Before Combat Entry Checklist. That was about all it took for my thoughts to begin spiraling again. There was a song playing in my ears. “You’re headed down to Vietnam,” it rang and went on and on. I wasn’t the only one who hoped this wouldn’t be another Vietnam, but at the time no one knew what the future held. Now if we would have had our tarot cards spread out in front of us, maybe things would’ve been different. But they weren’t.
The pilot reviewed the communications plan and double-checked radio settings then began to review procedures for lookout and threat calls. “MCC, Pilot, you have your spotter selected back there yet?”
“It’ll be Four.” replied Captain Willie.
“Four listen up closely. The rest of you as well, your turn will come soon enough. This isn’t a drill, remember that; this is the real thing! I want everyone in the cockpit to be alert. Spotter, when we’re on stations, stay faced toward the environment. Follow standard radio procedures for call up and then quickly give your traffic or threat call. Our direction of travel is always, always twelve o’clock. Give the traffic’s position relative to ours and if possible, direction of travel, such as traffic at nine o’clock, low, moving to twelve o’clock. Be quick, I don’t want anyone tying up intercoms too long!
“If you’re making a threat call make it clear. Such as bogies at nine o’clock. Bandit at three o’clock. Bogies are unknowns and possibly hostile. Don’t make a bandit call if it is
I’d find out real soon that in combat the people you thought you knew well you didn’t; those you knew hardly at all, you’d come to know a little better; and that everyone copes with stress in different ways. PBJ, our MCS who was scared to death, would turn out to be one hell of a guy and a good friend—it’d be just those first couple of days that we’d find it hard to resist the urge to strangle him.
With one final lurch, the van came to a halt. We could see the plane out the window now, so we knew we’d arrived. The ten-minute ride out to the flight line had seemed a lifetime, and for some it had been.
A sense of closeness to fate triggered something and everyone started talking. Then the crew van door was sliding open and Happy was yelling, “Everyone out!”
We piled out as soldiers going to war, heads held high, scurrying with our bags, our survival vests fitted, the .38s holstered within, to the plane.
Up the stairs through the crew entrance door we went, filing into our assigned seats. I was on Six, my home away from home, away from home. We began the usual preflight checks, the checks most of us had done a hundred times before, except it wasn’t the same. Our helmets would stay on for this flight. We wouldn’t switch to headset as we would have under normal conditions. The parachutes in our seats needed to be fitted; that wasn’t usual. The .38s in our holsters needed to be loaded; that wasn’t usual.
Our AMT, John, and the newlywed, Craig, fitted their chutes. They didn’t take them off for the entire flight. Those bottom straps are so snug they cut off the circulation to your privates after a time, and I could only imagine how that must have felt by wheels down.
Foam ear plugs stuffed into ears, aircrew helmets on, mikes in front of our mouths, and preflight checks completed, we strapped in. We were ready to go. The engines were roaring now and the front-end was finishing their checks.
“Crew attention to brief!” called out Captain Smily, the pilot.
I listened as he began a checklist I’d never heard before: the Before Combat Entry Checklist. That was about all it took for my thoughts to begin spiraling again. There was a song playing in my ears. “You’re headed down to Vietnam,” it rang and went on and on. I wasn’t the only one who hoped this wouldn’t be another Vietnam, but at the time no one knew what the future held. Now if we would have had our tarot cards spread out in front of us, maybe things would’ve been different. But they weren’t.
The pilot reviewed the communications plan and double-checked radio settings then began to review procedures for lookout and threat calls. “MCC, Pilot, you have your spotter selected back there yet?”
“It’ll be Four.” replied Captain Willie.
“Four listen up closely. The rest of you as well, your turn will come soon enough. This isn’t a drill, remember that; this is the real thing! I want everyone in the cockpit to be alert. Spotter, when we’re on stations, stay faced toward the environment. Follow standard radio procedures for call up and then quickly give your traffic or threat call. Our direction of travel is always, always twelve o’clock. Give the traffic’s position relative to ours and if possible, direction of travel, such as traffic at nine o’clock, low, moving to twelve o’clock. Be quick, I don’t want anyone tying up intercoms too long!
“If you’re making a threat call make it clear. Such as bogies at nine o’clock. Bandit at three o’clock. Bogies are unknowns and possibly hostile. Don’t make a bandit call if it is
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