Chapter 5 Part 2 THE Trip "Wanda Why?"

Winter Rain Storm Utah Desert - Photo by Sam Sturman

By S.R. Oberst

It was late afternoon when we arrived at McConnell AFB. The 60 degree weather seemed warm relative to the 30 degree weather we left behind us. However, a cold front was moving through during the night, so tomorrow’s weather might be an issue. From the flight-line a crew bus took Charlie and me to the Visiting Officers’ Quarters (VOQ). LT stayed behind to do some routine maintenance and to check out the helicopter we would be flying to the Boneyard. He planned to meet us at the base flight operations building in the morning.

As we were checking in at the VOQ front desk, in walks Charlie’s check ride nemesis, Captain SK Reamer. Charlie’s Check Ride Part I and Part II) If looks could kill, both died instantly. Wow! Did these guys ever hate each other. Ignoring Charlie, SK asked me what we were doing at McConnell. I told him we were taking one of their old helicopters to the Boneyard. When SK replied that he was also making the same trip with another helicopter, I could see Charlie’s neck turn red.

Nothing else was said. Our assigned rooms were a few blocks away in another VOQ building. We got our room keys and left the office. On the way to the rooms, Charlie again offered to have Wanda hook me up. I again declined the offer. When we walked up to the VOQ, a large woman got out of a pick-up truck in the parking lot and began waving at us. Wanda greeted Charlie with a hug and a kiss. She looked about 50 give or take 10 years, although it was difficult to tell through all the make-up she plastered on her face. She was wearing a short skirt and a blouse that revealed plenty of cleavage. But with a girth that matched Charlie’s, she was not what I would call sexy. After brief introductions, Wanda said to me, “Oh, Honey, you just have to come with us. My friend Sally would just eat you alive.” While thinking to myself “not in this lifetime,” I politely declined being eaten by Sally.

Reflecting on the Previous Un-Leadership Insight:
Some male Un-Leaders may be God’s gift to some women.

While Charlie was off with Wanda, I walked the few blocks to the McConnell Officers’ Open Mess or MOOM for short. Like the clubs at most missile bases, the MOOM was a boring building with nothing happening on a weeknight. But on weekends it was a totally different matter, those missile weenies really knew how to party. Where else could one play unlimited blackout bingo and feast on all-you-can-eat faux crab meat? I went in for dinner and found myself virtually alone in the huge, drab MOOM room.

As I was about to order, in walks SK. He sees me and asks if he can join me for dinner. During dinner the conversation turned to the events of the past few months. SK seemed to have taken things in stride. He knew that Dave Evalman set Charlie up for THE Check Ride, but he was not angry with Dave. Instead, he expressed his amazement that a person as unethical and unprofessional as Charlie was a Detachment Operations Officer. He also told me that he was convinced that Charlie was behind some dirty tricks. He said his wife was pretty upset when the first package of girlie magazines and women’s under garments showed up in the mail, but after the second and third packages came, she knew someone was trying to frame SK. We chatted for awhile, and it became apparent that SK’s bark was worse than his bite. SK’s parting words to me after dinner would soon prove to be prophetic, “Don’t trust that SOB. He’s always looking for shortcuts - always trying to get the edge. Someday he’ll get what’s coming to him, so check your six o’clock with this guy at all times.”

Chapter 5 Part 1 THE Trip "This Sure Looks Like Kansas

Crocodile in Costa Rica - photo by JoAnn Sturman

by S.R. Oberst

During the next few months there were a few personal milestones in my career - becoming an aircraft commander, being promoted to first lieutenant, and flying my first mission to the “Boneyard,” or what I refer to as THE Trip.

The H-1F was an old helicopter that was gradually being replaced throughout the squadron by newer aircraft. Our unit was not so lucky as to get these new aircraft, but as other units upgraded to new helicopters, some units like ours received their hand-me-downs. The oldest of the old were then flown to Davis-Monthan AFB near Tucson, Arizona, to be “mothballed” at the aircraft graveyard which was referred to as the the Boneyard. Our unit had made several of these “ferry flights” to the Southwest. It was a wonderful break from the normal routine and the Dakota’s minus 40 degree wind chills.

My first opportunity to make THE Trip wasn’t until the following spring. Our unit was assigned to take one of the newer H-1Fs to the rescue detachment at McConnell AFB near Wichita, Kansas, and then fly one of their real old ones to the Boneyard. I was excited when Operations Officer Charlie Crown announced I would be the aircraft commander for this trip. But my exhilaration was momentary dashed when he informed me he would be the co-pilot. This certainly took my fun-meter down to the bottom. At that time little did I know what a truly memorable trip this would be.

I was determined to make the most out of this opportunity. I did everything by the book: putting maps together, plotting routes, planning fuel stops, and trying to account for every possible detail. Charlie did nothing directly related to the flight, but he was busy on the phone calling places where we would remain overnight to set up his personal social calendar. You see, Charlie was what was known as a geographic bachelor. Although usually found in transportation units which fly the C-141 or C-5 cargo planes, geographic bachelors were common throughout the Air Force including helicopter units. These married guys were easily recognized, because their wedding rings came off as soon the wheels or skids came off the ground. (According to the Urban Dictionary, a geographic bachelor is a man who is married, travels frequently, and claims he is a bachelor while away from home.)

The day of the flight was clear and blue. I went to flight ops and got my weather briefing for the flight south. Planning fuel stops for a helicopter can be tricky because the wind can play havoc with fuel consumption, so I was pleased to see a forecast predicting a brisk tail wind for the entire day. As I mentioned earlier, Charlie did not like to fly, so I was not surprised when he announced he would be my navigator and do all of the map reading while I flew the aircraft. On these types of flights an aircraft mechanic accompanied the pilots to serve as crew chief. Our crew chief was SSgt Luther Topper, who everyone called LT. He was a lanky kid about 6 feet 6 inches tall. Having played on our intramural basketball team with LT the past season, I knew he was pretty good in the low post, but I did not know about his talents as a crew chief. Charlie treated most enlisted people like sub-humans, so it was no surprise when Charlie directed LT to load his bags as if he were directing a bellhop in a hotel lobby. LT just grinned and said, “Yes,sir, Capt’n, Sir.” As I loaded my own bag into the baggage compartment of the helicopter, he smiled and winked at me, “How ‘bout you, Loooo-tenant, you need help with your bag, too?”

We were in the air by 6:00 AM. As I flew, Charlie became quite talkative as I mostly listened. It was not long before Charlie began to share stories about his plans for his social life during the trip, starting with a woman named Wanda from Wichita. When I politely refused his offer to have Wanda hook me up with a girlfriend, he accused me of being “too married”. I took no offense with that label.

We stopped for fuel somewhere in Nebraska and had lunch at the airport diner. Charlie had the “special” chili and LT a giant cheeseburger ominously named “The Cornhusker Gut-bomb.” Charlie’s chili ended up being a regrettable choice for LT and me, since later that day Charlie filled the cabin with his brand of chemical warfare. And then when the stench could be no worse, Charlie began bragging about his sexual exploits. I looked behind me in the cabin only to see LT with his feet up sleeping off his gut bomb. Charlie rambled on about some woman he had met in a bar on his last trip to Wichita and all the crude things he planned for her tonight.

More Un-Leadership Insight:
Most male Un-Leaders I have known love to brag about their sexual exploits. Charlie was no exception and frequently recounted lurid escapades that demonstrated his prowess in the bedroom. He definitely considered himself God’s gift to women.

We landed for fuel somewhere in the middle of Kansas and then took off for the final leg to McConnell AFB. Charlie finally bored of talking about his own triumphs and pulled a “girly” magazine out of his flight bag and began reading aloud the “Letters to the Editor Forum” section. I could not help noticing how similar Charlie’s personal stories were to the letters in the magazine. Hmmm. Something told me to file this one away in my brain for future reference.