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When I was in the USN, I went on a detachment of my squadron to Yuma, Arizona at the end of July back in 1978 to take part in Air Combat Maneuvering exercises (our squadron flew A-7 Corsairs, not fighters, but I guess since they had guns and carried Sidewinders...they were allowed to take part!)

It was the first time I flew in a C-130 from Cecil Field in Florida, and there were two things I recall: First, that Texas is a really, REALLY big state. It seemed to take hours to go across it. Secondly, when we landed in Yuma and they opened the ramp, it felt like someone was blowing a giant hair dryer into the fuselage where we sat! (I know people out there who served over in Iraq and Saudi Arabia are probably rolling their eyes at this, but I didn’t have any experience with it before that. As a matter of fact, it was quite hot, but I recall thinking how easy it was to take 110 degree heat. It didn’t seem unpleasant at all.

Until I had to spend time outside in it. After a while of being out in it without a cover, I kind of understood the Hollywood movies where some guy is dragging himself through the desert dnd keeps looking up at the sun like it is a personal nemesis. After a while, that piercing heat focused on the top of my head DID feel very malignantly personified!

Anyway, the Air Combat Maneuvering exercises were fascinating- my buddy had an in (IIRC) and we go to go into this observation trailer set up to watch the computerized display of the training. It was fascinating-the dawn (I think) of computerized ACM training and analysis, and they put a telemetry unit on one of the Sidewinder rails on the participating plane that transmitted flight data to the ground where they displayed it on large screens in a small amphitheater.

At the time, I believe it was cutting edge, and for us watching, to see the wireframe terrain, and the trails of the aircraft in different colors as they maneuvered really lit a fire in my brain. Nothing like it is today, of course which I am told is extremely lifelike.

Anyway, my best friend who I had gone into the Navy with was stationed in Miramar, and when I told him I was going to Yuma, he rode his 175 cc Honda across the desert to meet me there.

We got a motel room (with Air Conditioning, of course) stocked it with beer, and just hung out on the days it was too hot to fly (I think they would fly a red flag, which mean it was more than 115 degrees, and no flying was to be done) so we had the day off.

For a few days, I just stayed in that air conditioned motel room with my buddy, drinking beer, shooting the breeze and watching television. On the second day, I wanted to get some food, so...there was a Jack In The Box across the street, and I figured I would run over and grab something.

Without putting on any shoes, I figured I could scoot over there, grab some stuff and run back, and my feet wouldn’t be any the wiser.

Like walking on coals...if you do it right...right?

Boy, how wrong was I.

I ran across that blistering road, and reached the yellow line before the nerve endings in my feet began to scream at me at the top of their little lungs that the soles of my feet were aflame! I managed to make it back, and plunged my feet into the bathtub which had ice and beer in it, and I swear I heard a sizzle of flames being extinguished. (I didn’t really, but...you get the idea!)

I look back on it now, and I see my stupid, drunk, 19 year old self choosing to run across that sizzling asphalt in 115-120 degree temperatures, and can’t even comprehend the stupidity.

But, there you have it. I survived, as did my feet.