Posted on 03/03/2023 3:06:38 PM PST by rlmorel
Yes indeed... and I was with them...
I do believe we served together on the same cruise
Pretty busy on the Yosemite, but I worked in the Carpenter Shop on the Puget Sound...That was more fun...
I didn’t have calamari at Los Caracoles, but did eat paella there two or three times during my brief stay in Barcelona. In fact, the last thing I did before leaving town was to check my backpack at the train station and go to LC one last time.
I wish I had been to the bar you describe. The only establishment whose name I recall now was the Bar Texas, which I think was somewhere not far from the waterfront.
From 1981-2001, I worked on damn near every model A-4, I worked Avionics, Maintenance Control, was an “All Systems” QAR, Avionics QAR and tire/wheel, hyd contamination and fuels systems QAR on F-5s. I was so burnt out after years of QA, I took a job as a Plane Captain ($2 more per hour ironically). Of all the different departments, on different birds, I loved being a Plane Captain the most. I just reported problems, did not have to fix it or decide whether to strike the bird from the flight schedule. Made my reports and got coffee and waited for the turnarounds.
1973-1978
Biloxi, Minot, Guam, Sacramento.
Navigation systems specialist.
Went in at 17 years of age.
Yes, all the VAQ squadrons were out of Whidbey Island, except one permanently stationed in Japan. VAQ-135, I think.
Thank you very much for sharing this priceless history and these memories! So much of this kind of history is now lost because it was never shared. Absolutely priceless my friend!
The A-4 was a fantastic plane. I never worked on it, but my best friend who went into the Navy with me got sent to VF-126 at Miramar, I think they were the "aggressor" squadron for the ACM training, and he worked on A-4's out there.
After being a Plane Captain, I had a few more jobs.
The next job for me was the guy who goes up to each plane and figures out the weight. I had to determine the fuel in the plane, how many fuel tanks were on it and how full they were, add up all the ordinance, total everything, and show that value on a small grease board to the pilot. The pilot would give you a thumbs up. I never made a mistake in this job, so I don't know what they would have done if I got the weight wrong!
Funny, I don't remember who I gave that number to. They needed it to calibrate the strength of the steam catapult so they wouldn't rip the nose gear off, or do a cold cat shot into the ocean.
Next, I went to work in the Powerplants shop. I was now a mechanic, a "Green Shirt". I was a good mechanic, and in short time, I became a QC Petty Officer. I didn't mind that either, because it was recognition by someone that I did good work.
I was very particular and anal about my safety wire work...:)
I did hate to see poor work, because I dislike sloppiness in anything mechanical.
I got turn qualified. It was that and/or being a tow driver ashore, and I was too clumsy to be a good driver, so I learned to operate the engines.
When we went to sea again, I was designated a "White Shirt" (You know what these shirts are, the is for people who might not) and I very much liked that job. It had responsibility, and you had to think on your feet and make decisions.
One of our planes had oil coming out of the belly, so I took off the wraparound panel (probably 30-60 Dzus fasteners, the kind that take a quarter turn to undo) so there were a lot. I took off the panel, and could see oil leaking at a decent rate from a fitting.
I figured it would take me just a couple of minutes to determine if the leak could be stopped...cut the safety wire, tighten the fitting, if it stopped, I could re-wire it, check the oil level, put the panel back on, and be good to go.
I started working, focusing on the work at hand (my head and upper torso inside the plane) when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked down to see a pair of khaki trousers being buffeted by the wind. It was a Chief Aviation Bosun’s mate, and he was one of the senior people on the flight deck.
I stood up and put my ear next to his mouth, and he yelled “CAN THE PLANE TAKE OFF?”
I yelled back “YES. I NEED TO FINISH SAFETY WIRING THIS FITTING AND PUTTING THE PANEL BACK ON...JUST ANOTHER TWO OR THREE MINUTES.”
He yelled “OK. LET ME KNOW WHEN IT IS GOOD TO GO. THE CAPTAIN NEEDS TO FINISH LAUNCHING SO HE CAN CHANGE COURSE.”
I didn’t give it another thought, got right back in, finished the job, and the plane taxied to the catapult, took off, and I went below.
It was only later that I thought of it: That entire carrier task force, the escorts, billions of dollars of equipment and probably 10,000 men were waiting for me to finish my job so they could change course and begin the next phase of operations.
All waiting on me, an average 20 year old guy.
What really struck me as I thought of it was...this is commonplace. We do this all the time. We load the young people in our military up with awesome responsibilities, and we expect them to perform. And they largely do almost ALL the time. When they don’t, people can get maimed or killed.
Then, on my last deployment, I was specially chosen and assigned to work with the Jet Engine manufacturer, Detroit Diesel Allison-Rolls Royce who made the TF-41 engine found in the A-7E model.
They were piloting a special project in conjunction with another A-7 squadron on the West coast. Before we went to sea, they rotated our birds through an AIMD somewhere down near Jacksonville, FL.
They were trying to determine if they could predict when the engine would fail on a single engine aircraft like our A-7s. I believe this stuff is all standard on all planes now, but back they, they had nothing. So they were trying to determine if there was any possibility for predictive information.
They installed a special wiring harness to get measurements from sensors they put all over and in the engines.
Various temperatures (such as EGT) vibration, RPM, throttle position, angle of attack, airspeed, altitude and such. We had a special indicator rack with "flags" on it, and a "tape" that could write the data from all the sensors and record it all for a single flight. The "tape" was a heavy metal cube maybe four inches on a side with a female connector on the bottom.
I had a bandolier made up that could carry eight tapes at a time, and it was my job to go to each plane when it landed, remove the tape, replace it with a new one, record in a log book exactly which flags on the panel may have been tripped, and reset them.
As I recall, we didn't have to notify anyone if any flags were tripped, but we did if certain flags were tripped.
I would take the tapes to a special office, and they had a guy from Detroit Diesel Allison-Rolls Royce who ran the program.
They had a Digital Equipment (DEC) PDP-11, and I could read these tapes into memory. I ran plotting programs, manually configuring Y-Axis ranges for specially shown parameters, and having the computer plot them against time on an X-Axis, so you could print them out on a huge plotting printer we had, and you could see the sensor flight profile for that sortie for that plane.
It really laid the groundwork for what I did later in life, but I really enjoyed it. If you are interested (you might find it interesting) you can read more here:
Rob
you should send it to All Hands and/or the Navy Times
Yes, I remember the wind rushing by, and the fantastic view of the milky way at night. I remember being afraid of going up on the flight deck at first from seeing the movies and training videos. I would watch my CPO go up there as I remained on the cat walk. He would casually stride up there and oversee the flight ops and I eventually lost my fear and just kept my head “on a swivel” when on the flight deck. Nothing major ever happened. Just a few minor incidents where no one got hurt.
I remember being shown the man from LOX during my initial training at VA-122. It was very effective , and remember the funny scene with the “safety officer” and seeing the burn victim at the end. It definitely drove the home the safety first policy. That movie is probably too sexist to show to new recruits now.
It was an interesting time in our lives. Thanks again brother.
You've added lot color, detail, and excitement to the flight deck scenes in the Top Gun movies.
You certainly have enough material to write a special interest book. Aviation fans and bird-farm sailors would love to read this. Many publishing options are available.
I was surprised to find good pics of the Clansmen A7 on the web.
I also found a great site for pics of the USS John F. Kennedy, CVN-67.
Thanks for the read, enjoyed it!
Hot Damn!
Thank you for the link to the Airliners website. I was able to find an image of an aircraft that is on static display at my hometown airport, which I have been actively searching for since last night, after stumbling upon rlmorel’s thread. I remembered the Clansmen squadron moniker being on an aircraft that I saw many times and wanted to track it down to present to rlmorel, as he may have actually had a professional working relationship with this bird. In particular, I now have an aircraft number to identify the a/c by - 304... and there is what appears to be another identifier number - 158026, on the fuselage in front of the left horizontal stabilizer.
Aviation Photo #5313207
LTV A-7E Corsair II - USA - Navy
ABOUT:
This A-7 was TOC by the USN around 1972 and was deployed with VA-46 aboard USS John F. Kennedy for during Operation Desert Storm. After retirement, it was transferred to the Naval Air Technical Training Command at NAS Memphis, TN, and assigned as a ground trainer. It is now on display at the Heritage In Flight Museum in Logan County.
For the likes of me, I cannot get past the protections on the website so I have been stymied in my efforts to post an image, link or address, without the code expanding sideways and running off the page.
One of the guys who shared my Dad's tent at San Pancrazio Airfield (in the heel of the boot of Italy) was something of a sketch artist. He drew a picture of the tent (wood walls and floor with canvas roof), somehow I wound up with it and still have it somewhere.
I had to determine the fuel in the plane, how many fuel tanks were on it and how full they were, add up all the ordinance, total everything, and show that value on a small grease board to the pilot. The pilot would give you a thumbs up. I never made a mistake in this job, so I don’t know what they would have done if I got the weight wrong!
Funny, I don’t remember who I gave that number to. They needed it to calibrate the strength of the steam catapult so they wouldn’t rip the nose gear off, or do a cold cat shot into the ocean.
******************************************
First, I congratulate you on having a fantastic memory and a talent for writing! I’ve been reading this thread you started for a couple of hours! I finished active duty in 1962, and it is amazing to me how much detail I remember from that time as an 18-20 y/o. Those were the years I became a man, learned how to be responsible and a leader.
______________________________________________________
Next, I want to respond regarding your comments above about the aircraft weight before launch.
I joined the USNR at 17, so drilled one weekend a month in a VP squadron at NAS Dallas. After graduation from HS and becoming 18, I was on active duty. Made high scores on battery tests and was offered any Navy school...but that would have required me to extend my active enlistment (which was only 2 years). Of course, as a new 18 y/o E-2 Airman App. with no real boot camp or other Navy training beyond correspondence courses, I just wanted to stick to the contract and then go home. I said no and was assigned to fill a billet as a Yeoman on CVA-42 (FDR), V-2 Division.
Joined ship in Brooklyn ship yard and was officed with Div. Chief and Cdr. Chief was Sr. CPO on ship and also Chief MAA. Ship went to sea 3 months later and times became much busier for us in Catapults.
During carrier quals near GITMO, I worked on flight deck during air operations. Started out running the boom to retrieve the bridal after each launch and throw it into the catwalk and diving in before the next launch. ...Quite scary at first to run hard down that boom that was only about 3-4 feet wide, 60 ft. above water with only small safety nets. I eventually worked at other Cat flight deck tasks during the trials (hooking up the bridal and holdback bar), but I also watched the deck edge operator carefully.
When trials/quals were completed, I was no longer required to work the flight deck unless we were short-handed. I spent time during flight operations with headphones on and standing by the cat console to watch the operator (E-5). After a few days he let me (E-3) operate the console while he watched. ***here’s where I finally get to addressing your comment at the top***
Over the headphone, the deck edge guy would start talking as soon as an aircraft was launched. ***He would tell be the next aircraft type and gross weight. I used my knee to begin filling the accumulator in the hangar bay with steam. I then looked at a chart on my console to see the total steam pressure needed for that weight.*** As the deck edge man sent progressive info on prep of next plane for launch, I would use a crank to move catapult to launch position, with final crank coming after the Cat Officer bent to a knee and pointed to the bow. I would then repeat building up the steam for next launch.
Very enjoyable read as usual! Thank you or taking the time to write that down and sharing with us.
Thank you, octex for the compliment, and thanks for serving!
(by the way-I did a short stint on the FDR back in the Seventies when my squadron sent a detachment of planes on her-I honestly can’t remember much about it, but I do recall she was not in good shape at that time. IIRC, she was the first of the three Midway class to be decommissioned.)
So-you had that critical job that simply COULD NOT be screwed up. If you make a mistake there, hear the wrong thing, or let your latent dyslexia intrude and dial in “33,750” instead of “37,350”, the plane goes into the drink and a pilot dies.
Someone may calculate the wrong number. Someone may give you the wrong number. But if you don’t dial in the right number...I knew that the information had to end up in the hands of one of the 2nd Division guys like you who manually set the equipment, but I couldn’t remember how it got to you.
Did the pilot have his own weight calculation he did, written on his knee, and I was just a check for him to double-check against? Did the pilot tell someone over the radio what it was after checking with me? Or did I give that number to someone who would tell you and also verify it with the pilot before setting it? In recounting it, I recalled it was an important task that they didn’t give to the screw-ups. (and we all knew who those guys were)
You had it right, “those were the years I became a man, learned how to be responsible and a leader”.
I had an interesting thing happen to me a few years back. I went to some kind of corporate team building thing, and one of the exercises was to pull a coin out of your pocket, and look at the date on the coin. (I think this may have been around 2010 or something like that)
You were supposed to recall what happened in your life that year, and relate it to the group.
So I pulled a quarter out of my pocket. It had the date 1978 on it.
The two years, 1977-1978 were red-letter years for me.
I was not a screw up growing up, but it was hard for me. I was a terrible student, couldn’t do well in school for a variety of reasons, and I didn’t have a great deal of self-esteem or confidence. I was gawky, wore the black plastic glasses we referred to in the Navy as “BCD Glasses” (Birth Control Device Glasses) and...just had trouble being a kid. I just didn’t understand why growing up had to be so damn awkward and painful.
When I joined the Navy, I found out I wasn’t a total dumbass. There were guys who were dumber and less capable than me, and there were, of course, guys who were sharper and more capable than me.
But what I found in the military that I appreciated, was that if you were competent, responsible, and did things well, you didn’t stay in the same place doing the same job. Like water finding its level, you would get moved to jobs that were more demanding or which demanded more responsible and reliable people doing them.
For me, as I made that transition between jobs, always moving up while many people stayed in somewhat the same place, I came to realize that someone else was telling me how good they thought I was. It wasn’t me THINKING I was good. It was other people TELLING me I was good, and doing it by the most democratically based action possible, groups of people making decisions to move people around.
I gained confidence and at the end of my tour, I realized I wanted to continue where I had always wanted to go, to college, and into the sciences somewhere. (What is now called STEM). But I knew I couldn’t handle college for STEM, and certainly not the math part of it, something I went to summer school for several years for. And at this time in the Navy, when I made that decision to leave and go back to the civilian world, I had another one of those incidents in life where someone seems to be looking out for you. In this case, it was a teacher coming when the pupil was finally ready. I was working on that special project with the engine manufacturer, and the technical representative was a young guy of perhaps 30 years old. His name was Jerry Wouters of Detroit Diesel Allison, and we had a great working relationship and became very close. One day, he asked what I planned to do in life, and when It told him I wanted to go into science, but knew I could never master the necessary math, he perked up and said “I am teaching college level math courses to the other sailors on this ship during the deployment. Why don’t you sign up, and I can help you. I’ll tutor you.”
So I did. And I got a grade of B in that college level algebra course. You have no idea what that did for me. It made me realize that if I put my mind to something, even something I thought was impossible, I could do it. Over the years, I tried to find Jerry Wouters to thank him, with no success. And after the Internet came into our lives, I kept searching, and eventually found his name somewhere. I wrote him a long letter of gratitude for what he had done, but never heard back. He may have been deceased by that time, I don’t know. But I would like to think he got it, and knew how he had changed someone’s life. I could never have gone to college without his help.
When I was in high school, my parents were on me to go to college. They couldn’t afford it, but they would have gone to the ends of the earth to get me that money, even another mortgage on the house. But I knew I couldn’t go. In my mind at that time, a “D to C” student throughout my schooling, I would have flunked out.
I always revered and nearly hero-worshiped my dad, a 30 year navy officer, so I decided to enlist, and the night I told my best friend, as he looked through a car door at me with a freshly broken nose from playing hockey and asking me for a ride to the hospital, I told him I was joining the Navy. He said “F**k it! I’m going with you!” Best thing both of us ever did.
And when I told my parents, they were warmly accepting and approved. I think they knew, in their hearts, I was not college material.
So, some thirty years later, I am sitting in this corporate team building exercise, staring down at the date “1978” on this quarter and dwelling on what I did that year, and what it meant to me, as you said...
I grew up.
That was the year I realized the future for me wasn’t a black, unforeseeable hole. I was a man, I knew what I was, I knew that I was capable and could learn, and I was free to chart my own course in life and was up to the task of standing at the helm and doing just that.
So, as I was pondering this, I was jolted out of it as the person, who had been asking each person in turn what that year on the coin meant for them, I found myself unable to speak.
I was overcome with emotion thinking of that time in my life where I made that transition.
As you said, I had learned how to be a man, how to be responsible, and how to be a leader. And thinking of it choked me up and left me unable to speak.
I knew almost all the people there, and they were puzzled by it, and possibly, a little embarrassed because they had no idea. Some time later I would tell some of them individually just what had gone through my mind that day.
But I think you know. And I think most people who have gone into the military know. I didn’t have to die in combat to gain that awareness, and for that, I am grateful. But I did learn.
For the benefit of some on this thread who may never have seen it, most guys who were in military aviation back in the Seventies are likely familiar with “The Man From LOX”, a safety film on handling of liquid oxygen (LOX)
LINK TO TRAINING FILM: "The Man from LOX"
It was hokey, and they tried to make it amusing (I thought to catch your attention span) but later came to believe that they did it as a lighthearted contrast to the hideous ending, to make it more powerful.
The video shows a young gorky guy driving a LOX tractor around, and people are trying to sidetrack and distract him. (This is from memory) I remember they have his buddies trying to get him to leave the tractor to go party with them, his parents try to get him to come home, and his girlfriend tries to seduce him, but he grinds on saying something like “Well, that would be fun, but I have to make sure I take care of this LOX” as he drives onward towards his goal.
As the lighthearted, silly teaching film ends, without any warning, the camera skips to a video, looking down a guy lying on his back in a hospital bed.
He is alive, his breathing fighting with or against a respirator through a tracheotomy in his neck. His skin is charred black. his eyes are open, staring at the camera with white eyes rimmed by blood red borders.
Even someone with no medical training who views this video of guy immediately knows that his death is imminent within minutes, if not seconds.
I have no idea how long they show that segment. I cannot recall as I write this, whether it was for five seconds or less, or for a full minute But what I recall with absolute clarity was the fare and eyes of nearly every guy in that room watching: Eyes wide and mouth open.
Someone later told me they heard the guy had been working somewhere down in Texas or Florida, and it had been a hot, uncomfortable day, so to cool off, he put the venting nozzle from a LOX trailer down his coveralls to let it cool him off.
He then proceeded to walk away and light a cigarette, becoming engulfed in flames as he did so. I don’t know if that is true, but it seems plausible.
And nobody I knew ever messed around with LOX, so the film must have worked brilliantly.
Thanks for your service, FRiend...did you work navigation systems for ships or planes? Or both?
Or were you part of the training command to maintain the equipment? Just curious...
Were you Navy or Air Force?
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