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Rice Fields in the Annapurna Foothills
By S.R. Oberst
Every flying unit has different non flight related jobs and tasks. Most pilots prefer duties which involve flying and dread these additional duties - except Charlie, of course. As the Unit Operations Officer, it was Charlie’s responsibility to assign all of the additional duties necessary to meet the myriad of requirements imposed by headquarters and the local base. Charlie relished this power, and he used it like a weapon. There were literally dozens of additional duties in our unit. Charlie liked to assign the ugliest jobs like Disaster Preparedness Officer as a form of punishment. Charlie periodically would reshuffle job responsibilities based on who he wanted to torment at that moment.
When I was new in the unit, I got my share of additional duties, including some of those really ugly ones. One of the additional duties I was initially assigned was Physical Fitness and Athletics Officer. Charlie, being an unfit couch potato type, held this job in very low esteem. I am sure that in his mind, he was assigning me a miserable job, but it turned out to be the best additional duty I had in 26 years of Air Force service.
The Physical Fitness and Athletics Officer or PFAO was responsible for administering the annual Air Force physical fitness test and for encouraging good morale through athletics. Prior to my arrival, the unit’s participation in the base intramural program had been limited to slow-pitch softball. To my pleasant surprise, our small unit of 45 people was blessed with a disproportionate number of athletes. In fact there were more jocks in that small unit than in the entire missile wing of over 800 people.
During my first year on the job, we fielded teams in flag football, basketball, racquetball, volleyball, bowling, golf, and two softball teams. My second year we won base championships in basketball, racquetball, and softball and finished no worse than third in the other sports. We easily won the overall base athletic championship that year. Needless to say, I had a blast with this additional duty.
Being the PFAO also meant I had to administer the annual weigh-in and 1.5 mile fitness run to comply with Air Force standards. Failure meant being placed in a remedial fitness program. However, the time allowed to run the 1.5 miles was so lax, that virtually anyone, however out of shape, could easily pass the test. Heavy smokers and overweight people would struggle to make the time, but most did.
My first opportunity to conduct the weigh-in and fitness run was two months after I arrived in the unit. On the scheduled day over 40 people lined up to be weighed and run, but Charlie was a no show. The next day I asked him about it and he became angry. “You dummy,” he snarled, “Didn’t you bother to look in the PFAO file drawer for my card?” He was referring to a 5” x 8” Air Force form used to document the annual weigh-in and fitness run. Every Air Force person had one and it was intended to accompany you from assignment to assignment. Sure enough Charlie’s card was in the file drawer. On the card I saw neatly printed entry for height, weight, and the fitness run time dated dated two months ago.
After Charlie stomped away, I took a look at his card. It noted he was 72” tall and weighed 190 pounds. The time for the 1.5 mile run was an even 12 minutes. My jaw dropped in amazement. There no way in hell Charlie could cover that distance that quickly, and he was closer to 69” tall and well over 230 pounds. By the way, the Air Force maximum weight allowed for 69” was 180 pounds. Anyone seeing Charlie in a flight suit with the adjustable velcro strips extended to the max would doubt the credibility on what was printed on his card.
Had I known Charlie as well as I would several months later, I undoubtedly would have been more suspicious of the card entries; however, at that time I merely returned the card to the drawer and prepared for my afternoon flight. Charlie removed me from the PFAO job not long after this encounter, but the Unit Commander, LtCol Brad McMellow, overruled him. I guess the Commander liked having his small unit winning in sports.
Eight months later McMellow decided that the annual fitness run would be held in early June. I scheduled a date and posted an announcement on the unit bulletin board. Again about 40 people showed up for the weigh-in and run. Again, Charlie was a no show. A make-up date was scheduled for the five people who did not make the first date, and I personally placed a memo on each of their desks. Four people showed up on the make-up day, but not Charlie. I was surprised when LtCol McMellow ordered Charlie to complete the run by the end of the week. I was not surprised when Charlie showed up the next day with a new limp and a note from the flight surgeon that excused him from completing the run due to a hyperextended knee.
Later that month is was time for my performance evaluation interview with Charlie. All Air Force officers received an Officer Efficiency Report (OER) evaluation every six months. Officers were evaluated in a variety of areas of professionalism and performance. Although the possible scores for each area was from 1 to 9 (9 being outstanding), anything less than a 9 was the kiss of death to a career minded officer. Charlie destroyed the careers of three pilots in the past year by giving them an 8 OER. In fact two of them failed to make captain which was an automatic promotion.
During the evaluation interview, Charlie actually complimented me on my flying skills and my performance during the last year, but stated he was disappointed in my professionalism. Without any specifics to back it up, Charlie gave me an 8. The days after this interview were the low point of my Air Force career. I discovered that the other four lieutenants in the unit had received an 8 on their OERs. The five of us discussed our situation and decided we needed to go to the commander. McMellow was sympathetic, but doubted he could convince Charlie to change the evaluations. It was time to take matters into our own hands.
We five lieutenants got together that night to devise a plan to prevent Charlie from ruining our careers. “Geez,” Bruce said angrily, “Imagine this A-hole, who lies his way out of everything including the fitness run, rating our professionalism low!” Suddenly it hit me. What if Charlie had lied to avoid participating in fitness run? It would be hard to prove – anyone can fake a knee injury. However, what if he lied the previous year as well?
Un-Leadership Insights: Un-Leaders do not play by normal rules. They will lie, steal or cheat to get what they want. They also delight in wielding their power at the expense of others. For Charlie, just thinking about ruining the careers of five lieutenants probably gave him an adrenaline rush.
Sometimes the only way to respond to an Un-Leader’s actions is to fight back. If there is a key to defeating an Un-Leader, it is this: Un-Leaders seldom have any real friends, but usually have many enemies. Anyone who ever served under Charlie was undoubtedly the latter. Seek help from fellow victims.
The initials of the previous PFAO, Captain Jim Bizbee, were on the fitness form dated a week before I arrived in the unit. It was the same week that Jim departed for fixed wing pilot training. After a few phone calls the next morning I contacted him and asked if he recalled Charlie’s weigh-in and fitness run. “What weigh-in and run?” he asked, “That SOB never showed up for a weigh-in or run the two years I had the PFAO job.” When I mentioned his initials were on the form, he said they must have been forged. When asked if he would testify to this fact, he replied, “Are you kidding? I’d walk barefoot on hot coals just to see Charlie get his due.”
My plan was simple - tell Charlie about my discovery and trade my silence for 9 OERs for all five of us. I never saw Charlie so angry or so helpless. Within hours he had rewritten all five OERs and taken them to LtCol McMellow. Charlie explained the changes by telling him the low scores for professionalism would reflect badly on McMellow.
I was not quite finished with Charlie. It paid to have friends in the Flight Surgeon’s Office. The next month during Charlie’s annual flight physical, they insisted that Charlie be weighed and measured. Somehow this information ended up on Charlie’s fitness card:
Height: 69 inches Weight 247 pounds
1.5 Mile Run Time: Did not attempt
Besides being a lousy forger, Charlie was also 60 pounds overweight. But it was summer, which meant warm weather, lots of flying time, softball, vacations, and oh yeah, the Air Force Majors’ Promotion Board. Who knows, we may get to celebrate Passover, too.
Every flying unit has different non flight related jobs and tasks. Most pilots prefer duties which involve flying and dread these additional duties - except Charlie, of course. As the Unit Operations Officer, it was Charlie’s responsibility to assign all of the additional duties necessary to meet the myriad of requirements imposed by headquarters and the local base. Charlie relished this power, and he used it like a weapon. There were literally dozens of additional duties in our unit. Charlie liked to assign the ugliest jobs like Disaster Preparedness Officer as a form of punishment. Charlie periodically would reshuffle job responsibilities based on who he wanted to torment at that moment.
When I was new in the unit, I got my share of additional duties, including some of those really ugly ones. One of the additional duties I was initially assigned was Physical Fitness and Athletics Officer. Charlie, being an unfit couch potato type, held this job in very low esteem. I am sure that in his mind, he was assigning me a miserable job, but it turned out to be the best additional duty I had in 26 years of Air Force service.
The Physical Fitness and Athletics Officer or PFAO was responsible for administering the annual Air Force physical fitness test and for encouraging good morale through athletics. Prior to my arrival, the unit’s participation in the base intramural program had been limited to slow-pitch softball. To my pleasant surprise, our small unit of 45 people was blessed with a disproportionate number of athletes. In fact there were more jocks in that small unit than in the entire missile wing of over 800 people.
During my first year on the job, we fielded teams in flag football, basketball, racquetball, volleyball, bowling, golf, and two softball teams. My second year we won base championships in basketball, racquetball, and softball and finished no worse than third in the other sports. We easily won the overall base athletic championship that year. Needless to say, I had a blast with this additional duty.
Being the PFAO also meant I had to administer the annual weigh-in and 1.5 mile fitness run to comply with Air Force standards. Failure meant being placed in a remedial fitness program. However, the time allowed to run the 1.5 miles was so lax, that virtually anyone, however out of shape, could easily pass the test. Heavy smokers and overweight people would struggle to make the time, but most did.
My first opportunity to conduct the weigh-in and fitness run was two months after I arrived in the unit. On the scheduled day over 40 people lined up to be weighed and run, but Charlie was a no show. The next day I asked him about it and he became angry. “You dummy,” he snarled, “Didn’t you bother to look in the PFAO file drawer for my card?” He was referring to a 5” x 8” Air Force form used to document the annual weigh-in and fitness run. Every Air Force person had one and it was intended to accompany you from assignment to assignment. Sure enough Charlie’s card was in the file drawer. On the card I saw neatly printed entry for height, weight, and the fitness run time dated dated two months ago.
After Charlie stomped away, I took a look at his card. It noted he was 72” tall and weighed 190 pounds. The time for the 1.5 mile run was an even 12 minutes. My jaw dropped in amazement. There no way in hell Charlie could cover that distance that quickly, and he was closer to 69” tall and well over 230 pounds. By the way, the Air Force maximum weight allowed for 69” was 180 pounds. Anyone seeing Charlie in a flight suit with the adjustable velcro strips extended to the max would doubt the credibility on what was printed on his card.
Had I known Charlie as well as I would several months later, I undoubtedly would have been more suspicious of the card entries; however, at that time I merely returned the card to the drawer and prepared for my afternoon flight. Charlie removed me from the PFAO job not long after this encounter, but the Unit Commander, LtCol Brad McMellow, overruled him. I guess the Commander liked having his small unit winning in sports.
Eight months later McMellow decided that the annual fitness run would be held in early June. I scheduled a date and posted an announcement on the unit bulletin board. Again about 40 people showed up for the weigh-in and run. Again, Charlie was a no show. A make-up date was scheduled for the five people who did not make the first date, and I personally placed a memo on each of their desks. Four people showed up on the make-up day, but not Charlie. I was surprised when LtCol McMellow ordered Charlie to complete the run by the end of the week. I was not surprised when Charlie showed up the next day with a new limp and a note from the flight surgeon that excused him from completing the run due to a hyperextended knee.
Later that month is was time for my performance evaluation interview with Charlie. All Air Force officers received an Officer Efficiency Report (OER) evaluation every six months. Officers were evaluated in a variety of areas of professionalism and performance. Although the possible scores for each area was from 1 to 9 (9 being outstanding), anything less than a 9 was the kiss of death to a career minded officer. Charlie destroyed the careers of three pilots in the past year by giving them an 8 OER. In fact two of them failed to make captain which was an automatic promotion.
During the evaluation interview, Charlie actually complimented me on my flying skills and my performance during the last year, but stated he was disappointed in my professionalism. Without any specifics to back it up, Charlie gave me an 8. The days after this interview were the low point of my Air Force career. I discovered that the other four lieutenants in the unit had received an 8 on their OERs. The five of us discussed our situation and decided we needed to go to the commander. McMellow was sympathetic, but doubted he could convince Charlie to change the evaluations. It was time to take matters into our own hands.
We five lieutenants got together that night to devise a plan to prevent Charlie from ruining our careers. “Geez,” Bruce said angrily, “Imagine this A-hole, who lies his way out of everything including the fitness run, rating our professionalism low!” Suddenly it hit me. What if Charlie had lied to avoid participating in fitness run? It would be hard to prove – anyone can fake a knee injury. However, what if he lied the previous year as well?
Un-Leadership Insights: Un-Leaders do not play by normal rules. They will lie, steal or cheat to get what they want. They also delight in wielding their power at the expense of others. For Charlie, just thinking about ruining the careers of five lieutenants probably gave him an adrenaline rush.
Sometimes the only way to respond to an Un-Leader’s actions is to fight back. If there is a key to defeating an Un-Leader, it is this: Un-Leaders seldom have any real friends, but usually have many enemies. Anyone who ever served under Charlie was undoubtedly the latter. Seek help from fellow victims.
The initials of the previous PFAO, Captain Jim Bizbee, were on the fitness form dated a week before I arrived in the unit. It was the same week that Jim departed for fixed wing pilot training. After a few phone calls the next morning I contacted him and asked if he recalled Charlie’s weigh-in and fitness run. “What weigh-in and run?” he asked, “That SOB never showed up for a weigh-in or run the two years I had the PFAO job.” When I mentioned his initials were on the form, he said they must have been forged. When asked if he would testify to this fact, he replied, “Are you kidding? I’d walk barefoot on hot coals just to see Charlie get his due.”
My plan was simple - tell Charlie about my discovery and trade my silence for 9 OERs for all five of us. I never saw Charlie so angry or so helpless. Within hours he had rewritten all five OERs and taken them to LtCol McMellow. Charlie explained the changes by telling him the low scores for professionalism would reflect badly on McMellow.
I was not quite finished with Charlie. It paid to have friends in the Flight Surgeon’s Office. The next month during Charlie’s annual flight physical, they insisted that Charlie be weighed and measured. Somehow this information ended up on Charlie’s fitness card:
Height: 69 inches Weight 247 pounds
1.5 Mile Run Time: Did not attempt
Besides being a lousy forger, Charlie was also 60 pounds overweight. But it was summer, which meant warm weather, lots of flying time, softball, vacations, and oh yeah, the Air Force Majors’ Promotion Board. Who knows, we may get to celebrate Passover, too.
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