Me in the Air Force

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This all started in October, 1963.  On the 7th of October, I enlisted in the Air Force.  US Air Force, that is.  The first thing I got to do was to ride a bus from Orange, Texas to Houston, TX, to sign my life away for 4 years, and to get poked and prodded during a physical.

From Houston, we took another bus to San Antonio, TX , for basic training.  This is where I first knew that things might not go well.  Some guy with a fancy uniform on, told us that we were in Flight 1302, and to sit over there.  Then some other guy walks in, and looks straight at us, and yells "Flight 1301, On your feet".   Well, we just sat there like dummies.  Surely, he wasn't yelling at us already.  We just got there.  Well, this guy keeps on yelling, and saying bad words, and we finally figured out that we better get on our feet and do something.   Some bozo tried to explain things to him, but that only made him yell more so we just did what he said and marched out of the room.  Actually, we walked out of the room, we didn't know how to march yet.  Well, basic training really wasn't all that bad, but it sure made you think a lot about what you were doing.

Sometime during all these weeks of yelling, marching, yelling, etc, we were tested and asked to choose what we thought we would like to do in the Air Force.  All I can tell you is that someone didn't know how to write about all those training courses they had to offer.  Some guys didn't have much choice.  Me, I picked Offensive Fire Control.   Worried about that for a while.  I didn't really understand what I was doing.

Well, turns out that Offensive Fire Control turned out to be radar, and in particular, radar in an F4C Phantom II.  Found that out after I was transferred from San Antonio to Lowry AFB in Denver.  Now, we didn't take a bus to Denver.  We went in style.   We took a train from San Antonio to Dallas, and then to Denver.  I really don't like trains anymore.

Now, the scenery around Denver is fantastic.  But to an airman stationed at Lowry, that didn't mean a thing.  Only way to get to town was by bus.  And once you got to town, all we could drink was 3.2 beer.  At that altitude, 3.2 beer really does a number on you.  In fact, at that altitude, everything does a number on you.   Living in Denver during the winter is not a favorite pasttime for a Texan.  My feet were always wet from that dang white stuff that kept falling.  More it fell, more 3.2 beer went down the hatch.  Finally got out of Lowry and Denver in April, 1964.

After a leave at home in Orange, I was off to Tucson, Arizona, and Davis-Monthan AFB.   Boy, what a difference.  Scenery around the base was great, but there wasn't any grass.  Just rocks and sand painted green.

Anyway, I reported in to the 4453 Combat Crew Training Wing at Davis-Monthan.  Got assigned to the A&E squadron, and finally got my first look at a real F4C Phantom.  Man, it was love at first sight.   That beast was big, fast, and noisy.  I spent the entire time at D-M working the midnight shift.  Every morning, I would go to sleep listening to planes taking off on training missions.  It was kind of hard to fall asleep on the weekends, because no one was flying.

Lot of good times in Tucson.  Turned 21 while I was there.  Finally got away from that dang 3.2 beer.  Always enjoyed going out to "The Body Shop" just past the gate at D-M for a quiet beer.  Not to mention the nice ladies in bikinis that were serving the beer and dancing on the runways.   Really liked those runways, too.  There was one sweet little thing.......well, that's another story.

Left D-M on the 1st of November 1966.  Packed it all up and headed for Orange, TX.   Stayed there for a very short 30 day leave, then left for San Francisco.  From San Francisco, we flew to Anchorage, Alaska.  Nice place, I think.  It was around midnight when we got there, and it was so cold that we ran into the terminal while they refueled the plane.  From Anchorage, we flew about 14 hours to Japan.   Fours hours later, we piled on that Pan Am flight again.  Really getting tired of that plane by now.  A few hours later, we landed in Saigon.  Boy, it was hot there.

Nice place, Saigon.  I remember someone running through the barracks one night, yelling something about "Charlie" being on base.  Well, I didn't know anyone named "Charlie" so I tried to go back to sleep.  Someone else came running through and explained who "Charlie" was.  Momma would have been proud of me in getting dressed that fast.  By the daylight, I had had my fill of mortars and small arms fire.

Two nights later, we got on a C130 and flew to Cam Ranh Bay. (these photos are from the 12th TFW) Seemed even hotter there.  Nothing but sand everywhere.  Lot of interesting stories at CMB, but can't really talk about them here.  We'll get together for a beer some time and share some war stories.

Well, I left CRB on Sept 30, 1967 at 6 pm, and arrived at Seattle/Tacoma on Sept 30, 1967 at 6 pm.  Now that will shake you up.  What have you been doing all this time.

Arrived back in Texas 2 days later.  Haven't left since.............