Thunderbird

Half Dome - photo by JoAnn Sturman

W.R. Priskna
fliesinyoureyes.com

A sense of humor is part of the art of leadership, of getting along with people, of getting things done.
Dwight D. Eisenhower34th president of US 1953-1961 (1890 - 1969)

“Priskna, get your chin in and when you speak to me, you'd better sound off so they can hear you in Denver! You're a pathetic excuse for a human being. I'm going to do my best to make this a very, very long year for you.”

I was standing at rigid attention dressed in my formal uniform and holding my M-1 rifle with both arms fully extended outward in front of my chest. Sweat was pouring down my face as Cadet Third Class Larry Fox berated me. Fox enjoyed harassing fourth classmen, for he had been the butt of unremitting hazing the previous year. It was time for revenge on the members of the new freshmen class.

I hated Fox and his cruelty. He possessed no natural leadership ability but derived all his power from position. It was all I could do to listen to the verbal harangues spewing from his 5 foot 4 inch, 120 pound frame. If there was ever a time to put my hands around his skinny neck and squeeze until his eyes popped out, I would have to stand in line behind my classmates who would be fighting for the opportunity.

Two years later I reported to Hahn Air Force Base, Germany, where I was assigned to an F-4 fighter squadron for three weeks. The program allowed cadets to fly with an operational unit and interact with the pilots and staff. I was paired with Lt. Col. Howell, a veteran of thousands of hours of fighter pilot time. I had the opportunity to fly with him in the back seat of an F-4 whenever he was scheduled to fly.

Some of my classmates never became air sick. They were the type who could go to an amusement park in 120 degree weather, drink two six packs of beer, eat cotton candy and greasy hot dogs, and enjoy the most vertigo provoking rides with no ill effects. I was not blessed with this constitution, and when sitting in the back seat of a fighter plane where it is difficult to anticipate the abrupt turns and “g” forces, often deposited by last meal in a barf bag.

Lt. Col. Howell did not appear to be overly excited about having to sponsor a twenty year old cadet for three weeks. This was his last tour before retirement, and he lacked enthusiasm to motivate the next generation of pilots. Compounding our ambivalent relationship was the fact I puked on nearly every flight. I had the feeling he tried to aggravate the problem, since he yanked and banked the airplane in all directions without preparing me for the next maneuver. Then without warning the loops and rolls subsided as he climbed to 40,000 feet and leveled the aircraft. With the F-4 loitering above the German countryside, I smelled cigarette smoke in the cockpit. I couldn't see Howell from the back seat, but he must have removed his oxygen mask and lit up a smoke before initiating another roller coaster ride. Fortunately, the crew chief had placed several emesis bags at my disposal.

As luck would have it, Lt. Col. Howell was called away on emergency TDY after only four days as my liaison officer. Captain Tim Rollings was named his replacement. There could not have been a greater difference in personalities. Before joining the Air Force, Captain Rollings had been the quarterback of the Drake University football team and married the school's head cheerleader. He was a deft pilot and charismatic leader. Rollings' demeanor differed strikingly from Howell's which was professional but aloof and impersonal. When making his preflight inspection on the flight line prior to scheduled missions, the crew chiefs and airmen greeted him with genuine alacrity. He reciprocated as he hailed them individually by name. If the airman was married , he asked about his wife and children. If he was single, Captain Rollings jokingly asked if he had been laid the previous night.

“Priskna, I get better treatment than the wing commander when I fly. I always make it a point to deal with my subordinates as I would like to be treated. I expect perfection from them, and they never want to let me down. I often tease them about their private lives or ask about their families to let them know I care about them. I think most of them would do anything for me, because they know I would do the same for them."

I was eager to work with Captain Rollings but apprehensive as well. Like the airmen who worked with him, I did not want to let him down and was embarrassed about my weak stomach. Before our first flight I told him about my air sickness problem when flying with Lt. Col. Howell. He didn't seemed surprised.

“Did he ever smoke during the flight?”
“Every time about half way through the mission.”
“I don't smoke and until you get used to it, I'll try to let you anticipate the flight maneuvers. In no time at all you'll get over the problem, and I won't have to warn you.”

He was right. After a few flights I never felt airsick again whether I was flying with him or later when I became a helicopter pilot. I revered Captain Rollings from the moment I met him. Whether it was flying, playing handball, or having dinner at his home with his wife and children, I knew he was the type of officer I wanted to be.

When I left Germany to return to the Academy, I did not know if I would see Captain Rollings again. I boarded a C-141 with several other cadets in Frankfurt for the flight to McGuire Air Force Base, New Jersey. One of the passengers Jack Leone was a good friend of mine and had grown up in an Italian neighborhood north of New York City. He invited me to a party his family was throwing for him the following night.

Our flight landed at McGuire at 9 PM and was scheduled to depart at 6 AM the next morning. Jack's father met us at the airport and drove for three hours until we arrived at their home after midnight. The entire neighborhood was in attendance to celebrate Jack's brief visit. Hundreds of colored lights were strung high above the street. Lively accordion music filled the air while throngs of people danced in the sweltering August heat. The sidewalks were crammed with tables laden with food and drink. The men engaged in animated conversation while their aproned wives scurried about replenishing food and drink.

When the crowd realized Jack was present, the music stopped and everyone became silent. Then there was an eruption of spontaneous applause as the neighborhood enveloped him. Men shook his hand and hugged his shoulders. Women kissed him and implored him to eat some of the marvelous food they had prepared. There were many beautiful and voluptuous young women who nearly pulled him apart trying to get him on the dance floor.

We only had three hours to celebrate, since we had to leave at 3 AM to catch our flight in New Jersey, but it was a festive time I will never forget. The community was immensely proud of Jack's achievements and grateful for his service to the country. They celebrated the accomplishments of a native son whose success was their success. As our time for departure neared, the crowd quieted and the priest set down his glass of wine and said a prayer for Jack and his guest. Once again he was surrounded by well wishers, but this time there was not an eye without a tear.

I saw Captain Rollings twice since I first met him in the summer of 1970 – once when he was performing in Cheyenne, Wyoming, as a member of the Air Force Thunderbirds and the last time at the 22nd Street Bar in Tucson, Arizona, after he had resigned from the service. Both were fleeting encounters but sufficient to know he had retained the same qualities that made such a positive and life long impression on me.

The stories from Tales of the Blue are true but the names are fictitious. Thunderbird is a tribute to two people who made a difference early in my life. The world is full of the Howells and Foxes, but it only takes one Rollings or Leone to compensate. Captain Rollings embodied the essence of leadership through example, while Jack's relationship with his community graphically demonstrated how people respond when they truly admire and respect someone. Perhaps they have forgotten these events, but I thought I would remind them.