Ringing in a New Season

 Midweek -- Coffee Break

September 9th 2013

    I love football. I don’t celebrate New Years on January first, I celebrate on August 15th or whatever August date the NFL schedules it’s first preseason practice games each year. That’s how I measure the passing of another year; out of the darkness into the light.

        I have always loved football. When I was a little kid I drew pictures of football players in the uniforms and colors of all the California teams; the red and gold of the Forty-Niners playing in the old Kezar stadium in Golden Gate Park with my dad and granddad cheering on our quarterback heroes Frankie Albert and Y.A.Tittle. And of course the blue and gold of their nemesis, the L.A. Rams with their distinctive ram horn helmets one of the first truly imaginative helmet designs; what a spectacle in that “huge” L.A. Coliseum built to host the ’32 Olympics.

      And speaking of blue and gold, how about them “mighty Golden Bears” of U.C.  Berkeley,... “the mighty Golden Bear, is loosing all his hair, his teeth fell out, he’s got the gout, he don’t know what it’s all about” remember that song; sung to any tune? Of course just across the bay in Palo Alto we find the Bear’s traditional rivals, Stanford University (the Indians before they became the Cardinals), with the simple understated red “S” on their white helmets.
    
       Heading back down south to that grand Coliseum we see the maroon and gold of the USC Trojans...about whom I shall not speak. And in quaint Westwood bordering poshy Bel Aire, live their across town rivals, the sky blue jerseys, light brown pants and those metalic gold helmets of the UCLA Bruins. I was a  matriculating “bruin” during the heady days of Coach Red Sanders who ran one of the few remaining Single Wing formations. I’ll never forget Sports Illustrated’s centerfold featuring the national champion bruins serpentining out of the huddle with Primo Villanueva at Tailback.

        Every football season of my boyhood, when my best friend and I were not playing pick up touch football on the soft grass of the Junior College lawn, we would play “Photo Electric Football” by the hour. We called  ourselves by the NFL teams of the day; Bears, Giants, Packers, Bengals, Redskins, Chiefs and so on. We kept close track of our Win/Loss records. I guess that was as close to a Fantasy League as we could get in those days.
     
     Later on, I played quarterback for the Modesto High Panthers, but not very successfully. We had the worst team in 28 years, but I still loved it.  I played intramural flag football all through college and during my time in Pre-flight at Pensacola, Florida. After earning my wings, I played intramural flag football again for my squadron team at the Naval Air Station in Jacksonville Florida. I loved playing football, I tell you.

      In the fall of “62 we had an important game so I borrowed a pair of cleats from a friend. The first time I ran with the ball, I planted my foot to turn up field, the cleats dug in as my body pivoted, but my foot didn’t. I heard and felt a pop in my knee as cartilage and ligament tore. As I went to the turf I saw stars of all colors, and my football playing days were over. I was able to rehab the knee in time to deploy to Key West later in October for low level recce flights over Cuba.

     That injury was the beginning of a 53 year relationship with my cranky left knee, the most recent chapters being two consecutive unsuccessful knee replacement surgeries, the outcome of which is still to be determined.

     But you know, I still love football. For me, the beautiful Fall colors are the sky blue and gold of the Bruins, the red and gold of the Niners, and the black and green of the Warriors...my adopted home team.

The First Navy Jack's Significance

Midweek--Coffee Break
August 21st 2013
 
  Two weeks ago I was privileged to attend the “Change of Command” ceremony  whereby the command of all Pacific submarines “Commander Submarine Force US Pacific Fleet” (COMSUBPAC) transitioned from one Naval Officer to the next. All such Naval ceremonies are steeped in tradition, but this one--held on the deck of the submarine USS Jacksonville--in which one Rear Admiral replaces another Rear Admiral is especially so.
     Because the transition of such great responsibility as a Naval Command is so significant, the change is marked by one specific moment of “relief”. After reading his/her orders from the Washington Bureau of Naval Personnel, the incoming officer smartly salutes the outgoing officer and says in a strong clear voice, “I relieve you, Sir”, whereby the outgoing officer returns the salute and says, “I stand relieved.” (and instantly a ten ton weight of responsibility shifts from the shoulders of one to the other).
     Of course there were congratulatory speeches by three and four star officers, introductions of families--several from afar, and praise for the enllisted COMSUBPAC staff, and the crew of the USS Jacksonville.
     There was, however, a new element on the scene, at least one which I had not seen before. Fixed to the Jacksonville’s deck only a few feet from the dias where the ceremony was taking place, was a sturdy flagpole only 10 feet or so high from which flew the “First Navy Jack”, the red and white striped flag superimposed upon which was a straight rattlesnake in a crawling position beneath which was the bold phrase, “Don’t Tread On Me”.
     This DTOM battle flag was used in 1775 by Commodore Esek Hopkins as his fleet gathered in the Delaware river before engaging the British Navy. This Navy Jack signaled that the entire Fleet was to attack the enemy. In May of 2002 the Secretary of the Navy decreed that this flag would be flown by all US Navy ships for the duration of the war on Global Terrorism...”as an historic reminder of the nation’s and the Navy’s origin, and will to persevere and triumph.”
     Indeed, over the decades prior to and during WWII just the thought of treading on a rattle snake in the American wild was enough to strike fear into the hearts of America’s enemies, and America has always been ready to strike back hard when “Tread” upon; from the Bay of Biscay, to the Spanish Maine to the Barbary Coast. From the American Revolution, to the War of 1812, to the Spanish American War the warning remained clear. Then after Pearl Harbor, from Midway Island, to the skies over the Coral Sea, and ultimately to the two ill fated Japanese cities hit by the first two atom bombs
     Then in the early 50s came the United Nations “police action” in Korea which resulted in a stand off, but we did preserve freedom for the South Korean people. Then after winning the Vietnam war militarily, we surrendered politically, literally inviting Communist North Vietnam to “tread” upon us and our Vietnamese allies. Now we have been in and out of Iraq and almost out of Afghanistan with no one even uttering the word victory. So of the four wars America has fought since WWII, none have resulted in clear cut victories. except for the one “decreed” over al Qaida by our President.
      How many times has our President threatend accountability and punishment for various terrorist crimes against American lives and property?  But except for Bin Laden, they have all been empty threats. Not in my lifetime has our foreign policy been so ineffectual, has our world leadership been so weak, has our influence been so low.
Our Commander in Chief should bone up on the origin of the First Navy Jack, and the actual meaning of “Don’t Tread On Me”.

A True American Patriot, Hero

MidWeek-- Coffee Break
August 5th 2013

As a kid’ I saw Gary Cooper in the movie, Sergeant York, the Tennessee sharpshooter of WWI fame. A Pacifist by nature, he became an unlikely hero  when, nearly single-handedly, he took out several German machine gun nests and captured 132 German soldiers.  According to the film, he picked off 17 of the gunners with his “Turkey Shoot” marksmanship.  Harkening back to the tactics of his youth, he made  turkey sounds (“gobble gobble gobble”).  When the curious German gunners raised their heads to check out the gobbling, he picked them off one by one. 

    Ultimately Sergeant York became one of the most decorated soldiers of WWI with the Congressional Medal of Honor (CMH), The Distinguished Service Cross (the Army’s highest), and the French Croix de Guerre.

    He used the money he made on the movie to start a Bible College.

    WWII’s Audie Murphie, product of a poor, Texas share croppin’ family, conned his way into the Army at age sixteen. From the liberation of Rome in 1944, to the invasion of France on “D-Day”, he was seriously wounded several times, and according to Wikipedia, was “awarded every US Military award for valor available from the US Army”. For his unprecedented heroism in battle--he stood unprotected atop a burning tank destroyer and single-handedly killed 50 enemy soldiers from an advancing German unit--he was awarded his CMH. 

    Perhaps even more significantly, his own post war “battle fatigue” or “shell shock”--the precursors of PTSD--actually drew the first attention to that post-combat syndrome for Korea and Vietnam Vets, and is now a well known reality of modern warfare.

     I am drawn to the stories of York and Murphy because we have just lost another hero, actually a hero’s hero, US Air Force Colonel (Ret.) George “Bud” Day, with whom I spent some intense times in North Vietnam. During a part of our overlapping time in the Hanoi Hilton, I had the privilege and honor to serve under his command in a cell bay of 30 or so men. He was the toughest man I’ll ever know, and because of that, our enemy went to extraordinary lengths just to break him.

    Before Vietnam, Bud had served in WWII as a US Marine in the Pacific theatre, and as an Air Force bomber pilot for two tours in Korea. By the time he retired from active duty, his dedication and bravery--especially in Vietnam--had garnered more than seventy medals and decorations. Second only to General Douglas McArthur (another 3 war warrior), Bud Day was the most highly decorated American Military Officer in modern history. 

     His capture and escape story is legendary. Shot down in an Air Force F-100 Super Sabre over North Vietnam, his arm and one knee were broken, and one eye damaged. Thinking he was hurt too badly to escape, his young guard’s inattention allowed him to escape into the country side. He roamed and evaded recapture near the DMZ for several days, was incapacitated by an exploding bomb or artillery shell, subsisted on berries and frogs, eventually swam across the Ben Hai river (the DMZ) into South Vietnam, and then, within sight of a US Army outpost, was shot in the hand and leg by Viet Cong guerrillas, recaptured, and returned to North Vietnam.

     For this heroic escape attempt and for his subsequent five and a half years of unyielding resistance to communist torture and isolation, and for his enduring inspirational leadership, he was awarded the CMH.

     Not content to rest on his laurels, and using his law degree earned between WWII and Korea, Bud spent his “retirement” years crusading for veteran’s benefits, winning expanded health coverage for Vets over 65.

     Last week in his Senate floor eulogy, John McCain said of our mutual friend; “He was the bravest man I’ve ever known, and his fierce resistance and resolute leadership set an example for all of us how to return home with honor.” 

     I last saw Bud a year ago here at Punch Bowl where the CMH society was dedicating a plaque as a part of it’s annual meeting. During our reunion, it was apparent, at age 87, he still intended to “burn out” going up. Colonel Bud Day...still an inspirational leader worth following.

Pilots Must Be Hands On

 Midweek--Coffee Break
July 22nd, 3013


The worst thing a Navy carrier pilot can do is to land short of the landing area on the flight deck. When that happens the airplane either hits the  deck where it curves down behind the ship (called the ramp), or it misses the flight deck altogether and hits the rear-most part of the ship beneath the ramp called the spud-locker. Either way it can ruin your whole day.

     For that reason, the pilot stays totally focused upon the details of landing aboard the ship safely, ie staying aligned with the centerline of the angled flight deck as the ship moves constantly to the right, flying exactly the right approach speed, and, most importantly, controlling the decreasing altitude to stay exactly on the right glide slope (this is the part that keeps you off the ramp and out of the spud-locker). 

     In the early sixties when I was flying the F-8 Crusader from the USS Saratoga in the Mediterranean Sea, we used an ingeneous landing aid consisting of a large concave mirror mounted on the left side of the flight deck. An amber spot light mounted aft of the mirror shown into the center of the mirror to reflect back up the glide slope for the pilot’s reference. The mirror was flanked on either side by a fixed horizontal row of green datum lights. If the pilot kept the reflection of the orange light (called the “meatball”), in line with the row of green datum lights, he was on the proper glide slope to land on the right spot on the deck where his tailhook would catch the arrestring cables. This glide slope could be adjusted for different aircraft types by changing the tilt of the mirror.

     This concept went through several refinements until the gyro-stabilized Fresnel lens beamed colored lights up the glide slope; green for above glide slope, amber for on glide slope, red for below, and flashing red for dangerously below.

     Ultimately, of course, the Automatic Carrier Landing System was developed whereby the planes flight controls and engine power settings are controlled by radar from the ship. Although touted as a “hands off” system, I never knew a pilot...including myself...who didn’t keep one hand loosely on the control stick and the other loosely on the throttle, ready to override the system instantly.

     All of this is pertinent because we have just witnessed Asiana Airline Flight 214 incur the equivalent of a major ramp strike with the entire tail section (along with two young passengers) ending up in the spud-locker of San Francisco Bay. The NTSB has barely commenced

 it’s investigation, but already, it’s not looking good for the pilots.  The flight control recorder indicated the pilots were using “auto-throttle” to maintain proper approach airspeed, but either it hadn’t been properly engaged or had failed and not noticed until the airspeed had dropped 30 knots below where it was supposed to be, and impact with the ground was immenent.

     A career United pilot who had spent over five years as an instructor pilot for Korean Airlines has suggested there could have also been cultural issues in play in the cockpit whereby a junior instructor pilot may have been reluctant to emphatically correct a more senior “student” pilot. He also personally observed the propensity of the Koreans-as he put it-to become overly dependent upon technology.

     Airline Captain “Sully” Sullenberger, who successfully ditched his bird stricken plane into the Hudson River 5 years ago with virtually no casualties said “Pilots must be engaged, aware, and mentally flying the airplane even when it’s actually being flown by a computer.”

     It is becoming more clear that none of the four Asiana pilots was keeping one hand “loosely on the control stick (yoke) and the other loosely on the throttle.”

Coffee Break

 Midweek--Coffee Break
July 17th 2013


“This is the most transparent Administration in history.”      

                              Barack Obama; White House “Fireside Hangout” hosted on line by Google, February 13th, 2013

    As Saturday Night Live’s would be newscaster, Seth Meyers, would say in reply, “REALLY, Mr. President!”

    One of the most basic tenets of good leadership is maintaining--nay, demanding--timely communications with one’s subordinates up and down the chain of command.

    A good leader will have a well promulgated standing policy in place that his/her subordinates will instantly communicate anything that could possibly bring embarrassment to the organization or to the leader. A good leader should never be surprised.

    That Barack Obama would like Americans to believe he knew nothing about the IRS targeting conservative groups..”I first learned about this from the same news reports that I think most people learned about them”...he simply confirms our growing suspicians that his leadership is seriously lacking, OR that he commands no loyalty from his subordinates, OR that his operating MO is to insure denyability of any wrongdoing, OR that he is simply lying.  Yes, lying, not mis-speaking, not skirting the truth, but flat out lying...like it or not.

    Good leaders meet controversy head on and stay out ahead of it, but Mr. Obama, is in such a state of denial he lies even when the truth would serve him better. He is currently so overwhelmed by scandals on every side to the point of near helplessness, all to the worsening plight of our economy, our foreign policy, our national security, and certainly our confidence in government. As the President himself recently prophisized, “when we lose faith in our government, then we have problems”. REALLY, Mr President!

    The whys and wherefores of the Benghazi tragedy are still the subject of an “ongoing investigation” and cannot be discussed; not even the President’s and Secretary of State’s whereabouts throughout that evening after leaving the White House ops center and her State Dept office respectively early on while our Ambassador and three other Americans were murdered by Islamic terrorists, none of whom have been “brought to justice” as our President promised...but then what’s just another Presidential promise?

    In the meantime the leadership of the Justice Department and the IRS mirror the style of their Supreme Leader, Mr Obama himself. Lois Lerner, who headed the Non Profits division of the IRS which targeted only conservative  groups seeking non profit status refused to testify to a congressional hearing by pleading the Fifth Amendment, a rarely used tactic to avoid incrimination. Her lawyer swears she is innocent of any wrong-doing so one wonders just whom she is protecting.

    Eric Holder, the President’s old Chicago Mafia buddy whom he appointed US Attorney General continues his lying habits to Congress by denying any knowlege of or role in the unconstitutional persecution of Newsman James Rosen, which transcripts show he clearly did. He has previously lied under oath about the DOJ process resulting in not prosecuting Black Panthers for flagrant voter intimidation in the election of 2008. He also denyed any knowlege of the ill fated “Fast and Furious” DOJ program shipping guns to Mexico hoping to follow their trail to Cartel kingpins. DOJ records revealed Holder did in fact know of the program. One of the guns was traced to the incident in which Border Patrol Agent Brian Terry was killed.

    Our President is currently watching the riots in Turkey directed against Prime Minister Erdogan who is inexorably (like a frog in gradually boiling water) leading his country (and our NATO ally) toward a more rigid form of anti American Islam. Yet he continues to praise Erdogan as “one of America’s closest friends”. Sayonara Egypt...and soon Turkey. Great foreign policy!

    And in the background of all this is the continuing saga of the Fort Hood terrorist attack (since 2009) by Major Nidal Hasan, who says he was acting in defense of the Taliban. Yet Obama, in deference to his affinity for Islam, continues to call it “workplace violence”, and refuses to put a stop to Hasan’s Army pay, by now in the hundreds of thousands. Must be of great comfort to the families and friends of the 13 innocents slaughtered by Hasan.

    We have a “Leader” who refuses to hold anyone accountable for anything...including himself.

Having A Little Heart-To-Heart

Midweek -- Coffee Break
July 3rd 3013

 Over the past 20 plus years I have had several heart attacks, the first being literally induced by an overly determined Cardiologist during a simple angioplasty to remove an 80% and a 50% blockage of my heart arteries. He left the balloon, which compresses the arterial plaque, inflated too long resulting in the rapid fibrillation of my heart until electrically shocked back into a normal rhythm by the paddles (“CLEAR!”..WHUMP), and then--according to the protocol of the hospital--double bypass surgery. 

    Since then, there have been three more heart attacks, two more angioplasties, four stents, and another (triple) bypass surgery. All of this with none of the usual antecedents of heart disease, ie family history, overweight, smoker, high blood pressure, etc.

However, heart disease (among other health issues) has more recently been presumptively attributed to the effect and circumstances of the Vietnam POW experience. And considering stress and heart disease are related, it makes sense to me.

     In any case, multiple heart attacks of course take a toll on the heart muscle itself. Heart attacks characteristically cut off blood flow through the heart’s arteries depriving much of the heart muscle of the blood it requires to stay healthy and viable. In my case, it has been determined, mostly by an Echocardiogram, that my “Ejection Fraction”, the measure of my heart’s efficiency in pumping blood, is only about 36%. Because I am below the normal of 65% to 75% my Cardiologist recommended an ICD (Implanted Cardio Device); a heart defibrillator (as opposed to a “pacemaker” which regulates the heart’s rhythm).

     The heart defibrillator is a programable, surgically implanted (in the chest to rest just below the clavacle) device about the size of a gentleman’s pocket watch with wire leads that connect through veins to both sides of the heart. If the heart’s rhythm drops below or rises above a certain level (fibrillation), the device delivers a strong shock to the heart returning it to it’s normal rhythm. This device is the result of years of trials and R & D and, considering the first heart defibrillator was the size of a washing machine, it is truly remarkable how far we have come.

  

    Vice President Dick Cheney could be considered the “poster boy” for the advances in cardiac technology. As a high profile/VIP heart patient, he has always had access to the “cutting edge” of life extending innovation. It seems that over the years the technology that has kept him alive--including several years using a defibrillator--has been developed just ahead of his advancing need. His treatment has given reality to the axiom, “necessity is the mother of invention”.

     For me, the use of a life saving device such as the defibrillator will be the source of much peace of mind (for which I am ever so grateful), even though there is a little trepidation about the unknown. It is said that when the device kicks into action, the electrical shock can feel like a kick in the chest from a mule. Talk about mixed emotions!...I can hardly wait.

   

A Reunion with Vietnam POW's

 Mid Week--Coffee Break
June 3rd 2013

En-rout to the Nixon Library in Yorba Linda, CA. the eight big shiny buses (truly the limousines of tour buses) carrying returned Vietnam POWs and their guests--mostly wives or other close family members--made their way down Yorba Linda Blvd to the cheers and waves of hundreds of local folks. My enduring impression, through misty eyes, is of the dozen or so first graders lined across the porch of the  KFC all waving American flags and enthusiastically cheering us on.

    As we pulled into the circular drive of the Library itself we were surrounded by throngs of local well wishers and a hundred “Rolling Thunder” bikers who had escorted our buses the last several miles, most of them proud Vietnam Veterans as well. There followed a few short welcoming speeches and introductions by Library officials, President Nixon’s younger brother, Edward--himself an Ex Navy helo pilot--and the President’s daughter, Tricia.

    The next few hours were occupied by staggered tours with 30 or so POWs with each guide, and separated by a golf tournament style “shotgun start” which made the most efficient use of our time. The Library, of course featured President Nixon’s achievements such as founding the Environmental Protection Agency, opening up diplomatic relations with Mao’s Red China, and bringing the Vietnam war to an end with honor--later dishonored by a Democrat Congress refusing funding for promised continued material support for South Vietnam’s armed forces, thereby snatching defeat from the jaws of our victory.

    Perhaps the most noteworthy section was the Library’s comprehensive coverage of the Water Gate scandal, President Nixon’s most unflattering and darkest hour which ultimately led to his resignation of the Presidency. 

    The day concluded with a terrific bar-b-que picnic which also featured Tony Orlando singing his hit song, “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree”, which has become not only the POWs but all returning Veteran’s theme song.

    The next day featured a late afternoon and evening at the Library which reprised the elegant formal welcome home banquet at the Nixon White House in April of 1973. That event--about which I have written separately--featured many celebrities of the day, and thirty or so POWs in an impromptu choir singing the POW Hymn, composed by a UNC music major turned Air Force fighter pilot turned POW, Colonel Quincy Collins. He composed the hymn in prison using four fellow POWs (including yours truly) for his “piano” to get the harmony just right. Well, we did it again for this occasion at the Library. Dressed in dashing Navy and Air Force mess dress (formal), we sang;

               “Oh God to Thee we raise this prayer and sing

                       from within these foreign prison walls

                We’re men who wear the gold and silver wings

                       and proudly heed our nation’s call

                Give us strength to withstand all the harm that the hand

                       of our enemy captors can do

                To inflict pain and strife and deprive every life

                       of the rights they know well we are due

                We pledge unswerving faith and loyalty

                       to our cause...America...and Thee...Amen...Amen!”

    During the four days of the reunion we all stayed at the Newport Beach Hyatt hotel, about a forty five minutes freeway drive to the Library. There were welcome and farewell events at the hotel as well, but the best part was in the “Ready Room”, the center of the action for any military pilot. The Hyatt had set aside a pool-side banquet room well stocked with hard and soft drinks, twenty four hour snacks, and information boards. A dozen round tables with chairs hosted many an animated group retelling favorite sea stories, war stories, and dog fights...complete with appropriate “airplane hands”. 

    A true reunion, some had not seen old cell mates for decades; cell mates with whom they had spent more years than with their wives at the time. Although arithmetic dictated the youngest of us was around sixty five years old, there was a great deal of enthusiasm for a fiftieth  anniversary reunion as well. 

    Speaking for myself,…I'm goin’ for it!

Spinning With the 'Gooney Bird'

Midweek--Coffee Break
 April 15, 2013

    

    In 1964 I was one of the “Red Hot” young instructor pilots at the Vigilante training squadron in Central Florida. The “Vigi” was being integrated into the Heavy Attack Wing there, an aviation community of older, more staid, more conservative pilots, some of whom were even crusty remnants of the Korean war. They tolerated us wet nosed youngsters like a patient old Lab tolerates exuberant puppies.

    Most of these senior and mid grade pilots were checked out in the training wing’s old vintage C-47, a twin engine propeller airplane that had been around since introduced by Douglas aircraft as the “DC-3” in 1935. Officially known as the “Dakota”, but affectionately known as the “Gooney Bird”, it was busy almost every weekend, flown by the older pilots delivering replacement parts and tires to stranded Vigi pilots on cross country training flights at far flung mlitary air fields across the country. Fed up with being away from their families on the weekends, they launched an informal training syllabus to get the younger jet pilots qualified in the lumbering old Gooney. So, we “younger jet pilots” launched the informal “Lieutenants Protective Society”.

      The Gooney Bird was so old it had conventional landing gear with a tail wheel, just taxiing the beast to the runway was a challenge because the nose sat so high you couldn’t see forward around it so you had to taxi back and forth in an “S” pattern to see what was ahead. Having never taxied an airplane with a tail wheel, the first young candidate, in the first few minutes of his first lesson, crunched a wing tip on the corner of a hangar, so he was off the hook.

      The second Lieutenant trainee, like most younger pilots, hadn’t flown a propeller driven airplane since years before in the training command. Starting a conventional reciprocating engine is hardly rocket science, but  more complicated than a simple jet engine. There are three levers controlling each engine, the throttle, the propeller pitch, and the fuel/air mixture. Well, in the process of his first startup he got confused and backfired the starboard engine so violently he blew a cylinder completely off the engine. He was off the hook.

    Then came my turn. I managed the taxi and takeoff uneventfully, but every flying training syllabus includes “approaches to stalls” whereby the power is reduced and as the airplane slows you keep raising the nose higher and higher until the airflow across the wings fails to produce sufficient “lift” to keep the plane flying. You induce an aerodynamic stall. The plane bucks and shudders until you push the nose down and add power to regain flying speed, but if you wait too long, the plane drops into a spin. I waited too long!

      Chief Petty Officer Bernini was the wizened old Plane Captain (the person responsible for the plane’s preparation and readiness). He had thousands of hours logged in C-47s. While airborne, he habitually stood behind the space between the pilot and copilot while drinking his coffee. Although I immediately initiated spin recovery with the controls, we still made about three complete rotations from four thousand feet down to two thousand feet, where we recovered. But needless to say, there were a few very “white kniuckle” seconds of chaos there in the cockpit. But since the Gooney Bird “never spins”, we had to immediately return to base and inspect the plane for structural damage. 

    On the return I noticed Bernini was sweating profusely through his coffee stained shirt. We no sooner shut down the engines and he made a bee line to the Commanding Officer’s office. As related by the C.O. himself, Bernini tossed his wings onto the desk as he managed to stutter out, “Skipper, if you keep trying to check out these crazy Lieutenants  I’m turnin’ in my wings.” 

    All the Lieutenants were of the hook.

    The C-47 has a storied operational past from pre WWII, to Air Molokai right here on Oahu. Fortunately, we will soon have one on display at the Pacific Aviation Museum on Ford Island. I’m proud to have a (very) few Gooney Bird hours in my own log book.

Skylar and The Mighty Mo's Dent

Midweek--Coffee Break
 January 23, 2013

Like many Oahu residents, I have visited the USS Missouri several times. And I never tire of seeing the big dent in the starboard side, deck level, a little aft of midship.
I always imagine the scene of the Japanese kamikaze (divine wind) plane smashing into the ship in a fiery crash, and the casualties it must have caused.
But I just learned from a visiting Big Mo “plank owner” (original crew) that such was not the case.
Skylar Fredrickson, a farm boy from Worcester, Mass., joined the Navy at age 17 – he’s now 85 – to serve his country and to a learn a trade. He was aboard the battleship in the South Pacific during a particularly fierce battle.
As a member of the ship’s R Division (Repair) his “battle station” assigned him to a Damage Control position near the ship’s stern.
“Sky” saw the incoming suicide plane just in time to dive for cover behind a gun turret.
Fortunately, the kamikaze pilot misjudged his dive.
Instead of his plane slamming into a hard, flat surface, it hit at an angle at deck level. Half of the wreckage, with one wing and the pilot, scattered onto the deck, the other half fell into the water – miraculously, it didn’t explode.
The ship’s captain insisted the Japanese pilot be buried honorably. His burial at sea in a canvas bag was as dignified as that of a Missouri crewman, but had to be rushed because of another incoming raid.
Again Sky manned his battle station, again anti-aircraft guns blazed away, but this time a kamikaze plane screamed over his station at 50 feet and crashed harmlessly into the sea.
Another miraculous miss. After the damage to the ship had been mopped up and repaired, Sky took a pair of metal cutters to the big red ball (the Japanese aircraft insignia) on the wrecked wing and cut strips to distribute to his shipmates as souvenirs of the battle.
Of course, Sky was not only proud of “Big Mo’s” fighting prowess, but also of the fact that ultimately it was the site of the Japanese surrender ceremony in Tokyo Bay, which formalized America’s victory in World War II.
Sky literally had a bird’s-eye view of the proceedings. From a perch “12 stories up” he witnessed Nimitz, Halsey and McArthur receive the sword of the Japanese military representative as they all signed the surrender documents – a chickenskin moment.
I interrupted Sky’s animated narration just long enough to ask him, “Why do you think you survived all those harrowing days aboard the Mighty Mo? How did you do it?” He thought for a second, and then in typical Greatest Generation humility said, “Oh, I was just lucky!”

A Japanese Zero about to crash into the Mighty Mo. Photo courtesy of USS Missouri Memorial Association

Pope Francis I

Midweek -- Coffee Break
 March 8th 2013

     This morning, Wednesday, March 13, 2013, I watched on TV the introduction of the new Pope, Argentina’s, 75 year old, Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio. As he walked out the door and through the curtains to the balcony overlooking St Peters square, the 100,000 umbrella’d believers erupted into prolonged cheering and applause for the first Pope from the western hemisphere, the first Franciscan Pope, hence, Pope Francis the First.

    Even though I was a practising Catholic for 35 years, I’ve not been one for the past 20 years, so I felt no special personal attraction to the event. But I did feel a sense of joy and pride, because there is a greater significance in the selection of a new Pope that transends a specific religion or denomination, perhaps because this one man can effect the social and spiritual lives of 1.2 billion believers worldwide.

   Pope Francis the First is about to take the reins of the church when some of its most basic tenets of are being challenged. Contrary to established church doctrine, according to most recent polls, 58% of catholic believers favor abortion “in some cases”, 62% believe the church should accept divorce, 63% favor the use of contraceptives. A growing number of catholics believe Priests should be allowed to marry, that women should have a greater role in leadership and liturgy, and all of this with the overlay of the priestly sex abuse and coverup scandal with horrendous moral and financial consequences. The Vatican gardens are rife with thorny issues. But Pope Francis the First, in his first few words spoken from that famous balcony overlooking the multitudes, indicated he is the right Gardener for the times.

     Like St Francis himself, the Patron Saint of the natural environment, and of animals, birds, fish and all God’s living creatures, the gentleness and humility of the new Pope were clearly evident. After thanking the people for their tremendous welcome, he invited them to pray for him. “Brothers and sisters please pray for me. Let us pray silently together”. And then he prayed aloud, again with the people, the most common and universal prayer of all; The Lord’s Prayer. 

     I think I was especially touched by the event this morning because as a youngster learning California history, I was always fascinated by the Franciscan monk, Father Junipero Serra who founded nine of the 21 Spanish missions spanning the length of the state, and having a major role in several others. And because my catholic faith sustained me through some very dark times in my life.

    Three years ago while travelling in Italy, Susan and I sought out the picturesque town of Assisi where St. Francis ministered to the poor in the early 1200s AD, and we prayed at his tomb there in the lower catacombs of the majestic basilica of St. Francis.

    Finally, in honoring the new Pope, Francis the First, I am moved to share one of Christianity’s most moving prayers which is also set to music; The “Prayer of Saint Francis”. If you choose to read it, please do so  thoughtfully, and appreciate!

                       Lord, make me an instrument of Your peace

                           Where there is hatred let me sow love

                           Where there is injury, pardon

                           Where there is doubt, faith

                           Where there is despair, hope

                           Where there is darkness, light

                           Where there is sadness, joy

                     O Divine Master grant that I may not so much seek...

                     To be consoled as to console

                     To be understood as to understand

                     To be loved as to love

                      It is in giving that we receive

                      It is in pardoning that we are pardoned

                      It is in dying that we are born to eternal life

                                                   Amen

    

                             Long live Pope Francis the First!

               May his rein be fruitful, and  may his legacy be rich.

Drone Critics Missing the Point

Midweek -- Coffee Break 
February, 20th 2013

     

U.S. drone flies in the moonlight | AP photo

I just don’t get it! President Obama has successfully expanded the Bush drone offensive against AL-Qaida and its ilk, and now the bleeding hearts have their undies in a bunch because a few of the targeted terrorists happen to be American, most by unusual circumstances. They question the constitutionality of the policy.
And yet I’ve heard no one question the FBI killing of Jimmy Lee Dykes, the murderer of the Alabama school bus driver and the kidnapper of the 6-year-old child from his bus. After nearly a weeklong standoff, and with Dykes sounding more and more desperate and irrational, the FBI executed a brilliant assault on Dyke’s bunker, killing him and rescuing the child.
The terrorist operatives who have been taken out by drone strikes are frequently quite senior in their respective organizations, are sworn killers of Americans and in some cases have actually orchestrated terrorist attacks that killed innocent Americans. They deserve to die, as Dykes did.
So why the moral outrage? Like so many things fanned by a preying media, they are just nightly distractions from truly important issues. As responsible citizens, we can discern between a valid issue and an irrelevant distraction, and withhold our attention/energy from the latter.
The Navy SEAL who shot Osama bin Laden has granted an interview to Esquire magazine, in which the writer, Phil Bronstein, dwells as much on “The Shooter’s” (he can’t use his real name) beef with the Navy as much as the actual action in Abbottabad, Pakistan, where bin Laden was tracked down and killed.
Seems the now-famous SEAL chose to leave the Navy after 16 years of active duty, four years short of the regulation 20 for retirement benefits. As deserving as he is of his country’s gratitude, and of our admiration and respect for his tough professionalism, it’s difficult to understand his decision to leave on 16.
He insists he was not counseled by the Navy about his post-service benefits. He’s having problems finding a job and making ends meet for his family. After 16 years of honorable service with dozens of dangerous deployments, he doesn’t think he’s being treated fairly.
This just doesn’t wash.
Every sailor knows the magic number is 20 years for retirement benefits, and in recent years personnel scheduled for separation can opt to receive specific transition counseling, training in job-hunting skills such as writing a resume, and Veterans Administration education and health care benefits. If he were suffering from “burnout,” and he may well have been, he had the option of serving those last four years in a training role or an administrative job.
After consulting with one of my local SEAL friends, it’s likely the Navy SEAL Foundation will step in to provide the aid and counseling he may need. Not surprisingly, like the Marines, a basic SEAL ethic is to never leave a man behind.
“The Shooter’s” plight could even cause the military to rethink retirement benefits criteria depending on the career specialty. In some respects, the discussion might be justified, but it also could open a can of worms.