7/21/2009
F-16 Showoff
A C-130 was lumbering along when a cocky F-16 flashed by.
The jet jockey decided to show off.
The fighter jock told the C-130 pilot, 'watch this!' and promptly went into a barrel roll followed by a steep climb. He then finished with a sonic boom as he broke the sound barrier. The F-16 pilot asked the C-130 pilot what he thought of that?
The C-130 pilot said, 'That was impressive, but watch this!' The C-130 droned along for about 5 minutes and then the C-130 Pilot came back on and said: 'What did you think of that?'
Puzzled, the F-16 pilot asked, 'What the heck did you do?...'
The C-130 pilot chuckled. 'I stood up, stretched my legs, walked to the back, went to the bathroom, then got a cup of coffee and a Cinnamon bun.'
When you are young & foolish - speed & flash may seem a good thing !!!
When you get older & smarter - comfort & dull is not such a bad thing !!!
Just because Hercules is huge, slow and lumbering, doesn't mean he isn't bad!
The jet jockey decided to show off.
The fighter jock told the C-130 pilot, 'watch this!' and promptly went into a barrel roll followed by a steep climb. He then finished with a sonic boom as he broke the sound barrier. The F-16 pilot asked the C-130 pilot what he thought of that?
The C-130 pilot said, 'That was impressive, but watch this!' The C-130 droned along for about 5 minutes and then the C-130 Pilot came back on and said: 'What did you think of that?'
Puzzled, the F-16 pilot asked, 'What the heck did you do?...'
The C-130 pilot chuckled. 'I stood up, stretched my legs, walked to the back, went to the bathroom, then got a cup of coffee and a Cinnamon bun.'
When you are young & foolish - speed & flash may seem a good thing !!!
When you get older & smarter - comfort & dull is not such a bad thing !!!
Just because Hercules is huge, slow and lumbering, doesn't mean he isn't bad!
# posted by pokernights @ 9:59 PM 
7/06/2008
Pilot's Delight
“There I was at six thousand feet over central Iraq, two hundred eighty knots and we're dropping faster than Paris Hilton's panties. It's a typical September evening in the Persian Gulf; hotter than a rectal thermometer and I'm sweating like a priest at a Cub Scout meeting."
But that's neither here nor there? The night is moonless over Baghdad tonight, and blacker than a Steven King novel. But it's 2003, folks, and I'm sporting the latest in night-combat technology. Namely, hand-me-down night vision goggles (NVGs) thrown out by the fighter boys. Additionally, my 1962 Lockheed C-130E Hercules is equipped with an obsolete, yet, semi-effective missile warning system (MWS). The MWS conveniently makes a nice soothing tone in your headset just before the missile explodes into your airplane. Who says you can't polish a turd?
At any rate, the NVGs are illuminating Baghdad International Airport like the Las Vegas Strip during a Mike Tyson fight. These NVGs are the cat's ass. But I've digressed.
The preferred method of approach tonight is the ‘random shallow’.
This tactical maneuver allows the pilot to ingress the landing zone in an unpredictable manner, thus exploiting the supposedly secured perimeter of the airfield in an attempt to avoid enemy surface-to-air-missiles and small arms fire. Personally, I wouldn't bet my pink ass on that theory but the approach is fun as hell and that's the real reason we fly it.
We get a visual on the runway at three miles out, drop down to one thousand feet above the ground, still maintaining two-hundred-eighty knots.
Now the fun starts. It's pilot appreciation time as I descend the mighty Herc to six hundred feet and smoothly, yet very deliberately, yank into a sixty degree left bank, turning the aircraft ninety degrees offset from runway heading. As soon as we roll out of the turn, I reverse turn to the right a full two-hundred-seventy degrees in order to roll out aligned with the runway. Some aeronautical genius coined this maneuver the "Ninety/Two-Seventy.” Chopping the power during the turn, I pull back on the yoke just to the point my nether regions start to sag, bleeding off energy in order to configure the pig for landing.
‘Flaps Fifty! Landing Gear Down! ‘Before Landing Checklist’! I look over at the copilot and he's shaking like a cat shitting on a sheet of ice. Looking further back at the navigator, and even through the NVGs, I can clearly see the wet spot spreading around his crotch.
Finally, I glance at my steely-eyed flight engineer. His eyebrows rise in unison as a grin forms on his face.? I can tell he's thinking the same thing I am. "Where do we find such fine young men?”
‘Flaps One Hundred!’ I bark at the shaking cat. Now it’s all aim point and airspeed. Aviation 101, with the exception there's no lights. I'm on NVGs, it's Baghdad, and now tracers are starting to crisscross the black sky.
Naturally, and not at all surprisingly, I grease the Goodyears on brick-one of Runway 33 Left, bring the throttles to ground idle, and then force the props to full reverse pitch. Tonight, the sound of freedom is my four Hamilton Standard propellers chewing through the thick, putrid, Baghdad air. The huge, one-hundred-thirty-thousand pound, lumbering, whisper pig comes to a l urching stop in less than two thousand feet. Let's see a Viper do that!
We exit the runway to a welcoming comm ittee of government-issued Army grunts.? It's time to download their beans and bullets and letters from their sweethearts, look for war booty, and of course, urinate on Saddam's home.
Walking down the crew entry steps with my lowest-bidder, Beretta 92F 9 millimeter strapped smartly to my side, I look around and thank God, not Allah, I'm an American and I'm on the winning team.
Then I thank God I'm not in the Army.
Knowing once again I've cheated death, I ask myself, "What in the hell am I doing in this mess?” Is it Duty, Honor, and Country? You bet your ass.
Or could it possibly be for the g lory, the swag, and not to mention, chicks dig the Air Medal.
There's probably some truth there too.
But now is not the time to derive the complexities of the superior, cerebral properties of the human portion of the aviator-man- machine model. It is however, time to get out of this shit-hole. "Hey copilot, clean yourself up! And how's 'bout the ‘Before Starting Engines Checklist’."
God, I love this job!”
-- The Great Hamptini
But that's neither here nor there? The night is moonless over Baghdad tonight, and blacker than a Steven King novel. But it's 2003, folks, and I'm sporting the latest in night-combat technology. Namely, hand-me-down night vision goggles (NVGs) thrown out by the fighter boys. Additionally, my 1962 Lockheed C-130E Hercules is equipped with an obsolete, yet, semi-effective missile warning system (MWS). The MWS conveniently makes a nice soothing tone in your headset just before the missile explodes into your airplane. Who says you can't polish a turd?
At any rate, the NVGs are illuminating Baghdad International Airport like the Las Vegas Strip during a Mike Tyson fight. These NVGs are the cat's ass. But I've digressed.
The preferred method of approach tonight is the ‘random shallow’.
This tactical maneuver allows the pilot to ingress the landing zone in an unpredictable manner, thus exploiting the supposedly secured perimeter of the airfield in an attempt to avoid enemy surface-to-air-missiles and small arms fire. Personally, I wouldn't bet my pink ass on that theory but the approach is fun as hell and that's the real reason we fly it.
We get a visual on the runway at three miles out, drop down to one thousand feet above the ground, still maintaining two-hundred-eighty knots.
Now the fun starts. It's pilot appreciation time as I descend the mighty Herc to six hundred feet and smoothly, yet very deliberately, yank into a sixty degree left bank, turning the aircraft ninety degrees offset from runway heading. As soon as we roll out of the turn, I reverse turn to the right a full two-hundred-seventy degrees in order to roll out aligned with the runway. Some aeronautical genius coined this maneuver the "Ninety/Two-Seventy.” Chopping the power during the turn, I pull back on the yoke just to the point my nether regions start to sag, bleeding off energy in order to configure the pig for landing.
‘Flaps Fifty! Landing Gear Down! ‘Before Landing Checklist’! I look over at the copilot and he's shaking like a cat shitting on a sheet of ice. Looking further back at the navigator, and even through the NVGs, I can clearly see the wet spot spreading around his crotch.
Finally, I glance at my steely-eyed flight engineer. His eyebrows rise in unison as a grin forms on his face.? I can tell he's thinking the same thing I am. "Where do we find such fine young men?”
‘Flaps One Hundred!’ I bark at the shaking cat. Now it’s all aim point and airspeed. Aviation 101, with the exception there's no lights. I'm on NVGs, it's Baghdad, and now tracers are starting to crisscross the black sky.
Naturally, and not at all surprisingly, I grease the Goodyears on brick-one of Runway 33 Left, bring the throttles to ground idle, and then force the props to full reverse pitch. Tonight, the sound of freedom is my four Hamilton Standard propellers chewing through the thick, putrid, Baghdad air. The huge, one-hundred-thirty-thousand pound, lumbering, whisper pig comes to a l urching stop in less than two thousand feet. Let's see a Viper do that!
We exit the runway to a welcoming comm ittee of government-issued Army grunts.? It's time to download their beans and bullets and letters from their sweethearts, look for war booty, and of course, urinate on Saddam's home.
Walking down the crew entry steps with my lowest-bidder, Beretta 92F 9 millimeter strapped smartly to my side, I look around and thank God, not Allah, I'm an American and I'm on the winning team.
Then I thank God I'm not in the Army.
Knowing once again I've cheated death, I ask myself, "What in the hell am I doing in this mess?” Is it Duty, Honor, and Country? You bet your ass.
Or could it possibly be for the g lory, the swag, and not to mention, chicks dig the Air Medal.
There's probably some truth there too.
But now is not the time to derive the complexities of the superior, cerebral properties of the human portion of the aviator-man- machine model. It is however, time to get out of this shit-hole. "Hey copilot, clean yourself up! And how's 'bout the ‘Before Starting Engines Checklist’."
God, I love this job!”
-- The Great Hamptini
# posted by pokernights @ 3:53 PM
4/21/2008
AC130 Hercules Gunship
C-130 Talon II
C-130 Missions
Tribute to the C-130
# posted by pokernights @ 1:44 PM
C-130 Music Video "Four Fans of Freedom"
# posted by pokernights @ 1:40 PM
3/12/2008
A crew chief's tale - narrative on accident involving cabin ladder in a C-130
Late one evening, after arriving back at home station from a five-day Joint Air Tactical Trainer filled with 10-hour flights, I went to put my C-130 to bed and check the engine intakes and exhausts while installing the intake plugs. Wouldn't you know it, the crew chief ladder (the old style with two horizontal folding arms that attach to the opposite side with "D" rings) I had been nursing along for the past two months finally gave up the ghost. The BLANKETY BLANK thing lost its last horizontal support and the closest maintenance stand was at least two parking spots away. So, being the quick-thinking person that I am, I just stood the ladder up and said a quick prayer, hoping the ladder would not fold up or unfold when I was at the top. Well, the first three motors and the last exhaust inspection went well. Then came my near-fatal error.
I stood the BLANKETY BLANK ladder at the last intake, grabbed my flashlight in one hand and the intake plug in the other and started climbing. I was thinking how good it was to be home, and how cold the beer was in my fridge. When I got to the third rung from the top on the ladder, I could just see into the intake and started looking for the usual stuff, birds, loose rivets, FOD damage, etc. (Remember, this ladder looks like an A without the cross bar, and the top is hinged from 0 to 180[degrees].) Finding nothing interesting to look at, I started putting in the intake plug. It, of course, was as well-used as the ladder, and it was being obstinate as well. I then put one root up on the second from the top rung (a major no-no in the maintenance world) to get more leverage to pound the dang intake plug into place. Thinking to myself, "Got it, phew." Now hook up the bungee cords and beat feet for a cold one. One little problem, though: The effort to get the plug in had caused the ladder to lean onto two opposin g feet, with me at the top. The ladder, of course, had about enough of my bad language being directed at it, and therefore, decided it was time to go on a work stoppage.
It opened up to the full-open position, leaving me eight to 10 feet above it and moving down toward it, and the ground, at what seemed like terminal velocity. Fortunately for me, the ladder beat me to the ground and I landed on top of it, contacting it with one knee (that was painful). I immediately jumped up and looked around to make sure no one saw my dance with the ladder, or the trapeze act that had just been performed. The expediter truck was still across the flightline, and no one was near (what a relief). Lucky for me I finished the day with only a limp and no broken bones. I finished closing up the aircraft and waited for the truck to pick me up, so I could finally get that cold one.
That ladder didn't last much longer, as it was sent to where all broken ladders go--the ISO Hangar. Just kidding. Remember, we are only as safe as the equipment we use. Next time I made sure I had the right equipment for the job.
COPYRIGHT 2002 U.S. Air Force, Safety Agency
COPYRIGHT 2002 Gale Group
I stood the BLANKETY BLANK ladder at the last intake, grabbed my flashlight in one hand and the intake plug in the other and started climbing. I was thinking how good it was to be home, and how cold the beer was in my fridge. When I got to the third rung from the top on the ladder, I could just see into the intake and started looking for the usual stuff, birds, loose rivets, FOD damage, etc. (Remember, this ladder looks like an A without the cross bar, and the top is hinged from 0 to 180[degrees].) Finding nothing interesting to look at, I started putting in the intake plug. It, of course, was as well-used as the ladder, and it was being obstinate as well. I then put one root up on the second from the top rung (a major no-no in the maintenance world) to get more leverage to pound the dang intake plug into place. Thinking to myself, "Got it, phew." Now hook up the bungee cords and beat feet for a cold one. One little problem, though: The effort to get the plug in had caused the ladder to lean onto two opposin g feet, with me at the top. The ladder, of course, had about enough of my bad language being directed at it, and therefore, decided it was time to go on a work stoppage.
It opened up to the full-open position, leaving me eight to 10 feet above it and moving down toward it, and the ground, at what seemed like terminal velocity. Fortunately for me, the ladder beat me to the ground and I landed on top of it, contacting it with one knee (that was painful). I immediately jumped up and looked around to make sure no one saw my dance with the ladder, or the trapeze act that had just been performed. The expediter truck was still across the flightline, and no one was near (what a relief). Lucky for me I finished the day with only a limp and no broken bones. I finished closing up the aircraft and waited for the truck to pick me up, so I could finally get that cold one.
That ladder didn't last much longer, as it was sent to where all broken ladders go--the ISO Hangar. Just kidding. Remember, we are only as safe as the equipment we use. Next time I made sure I had the right equipment for the job.
COPYRIGHT 2002 U.S. Air Force, Safety Agency
COPYRIGHT 2002 Gale Group
# posted by pokernights @ 4:49 PM
2/20/2008
My Veteran Friends
This is from a Retired Airman
"For those who fought for it, freedom has a taste the protected will never know!"
When Veterans Retire
When a good Veteran leaves the "job" and retires to a better life, many are jealous, some are pleased and yet others, who may have already retired, wonder. We wonder if he knows what they are leaving behind, because we already know. We know, for example, that after a lifetime of camaraderie that few experience, it will remain as a longing for those past times. We know in the Military life there is a fellowship which lasts long after the uniforms are hung up in the back
of the closet. We know even if he throws them away, they will be on him with every step and breath that remains in his life. We also know
how the very bearing of the man speaks of what he was and in his heart
still is.
These are the burdens of the job. You will still look at people suspiciously, still see what others do not see or choose to ignore and
always will look at the rest of the Military world with a respect for what they do; only grown in a lifetime of knowing. Never think for one moment you are escaping from that life. You are only escaping the
"job" and merely being allowed to leave "active" duty.
So what I wish for you is that whenever you ease into retirement, in your heart you never forget for one moment that "Blessed are the Peacemakers for they shall be called children of God," and you are still a member of the greatest fraternity the world has ever known.
Civilian Friends vs. Veteran Friends
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Get upset if you're too busy to talk to them for a
week. VETERAN FRIENDS: Are glad to see you after years, and will happily carry on the same conversation you were having the last time you met.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Have never seen you cry. VETERAN FRIENDS: Have cried with you.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Borrow your stuff for a few days then give it back. VETERAN FRIENDS: Keep your stuff so long they forget it's yours.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Know a few things about you. VETERAN FRIENDS: Could write a book with direct quotes from you.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will leave you behind if that's what the crowd is
doing. VETERAN FRIENDS: Will kick the crowds' ass that left you behind.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Are for a while. VETERAN FRIENDS: Are for life.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Have shared a few experiences... VETERAN FRIENDS: Have shared a lifetime of experiences no citizen could ever dream of...
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will take your drink away when they think you've had
enough.
VETERAN FRIENDS: Will look at you stumbling all over the place and say, "You better drink the rest of that before you spill it!!"
Then carry you home safely and put you to bed...
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will talk crap to the person who talks crap about
you. VETERAN FRIENDS: Will knock the shit out OF THEM..... for using your name in vain.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will ignore this. VETERAN FRIENDS: Will forward this.
Once a Soldier always a Soldier!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"For those who fought for it, freedom has a taste the protected will never know!"
When Veterans Retire
When a good Veteran leaves the "job" and retires to a better life, many are jealous, some are pleased and yet others, who may have already retired, wonder. We wonder if he knows what they are leaving behind, because we already know. We know, for example, that after a lifetime of camaraderie that few experience, it will remain as a longing for those past times. We know in the Military life there is a fellowship which lasts long after the uniforms are hung up in the back
of the closet. We know even if he throws them away, they will be on him with every step and breath that remains in his life. We also know
how the very bearing of the man speaks of what he was and in his heart
still is.
These are the burdens of the job. You will still look at people suspiciously, still see what others do not see or choose to ignore and
always will look at the rest of the Military world with a respect for what they do; only grown in a lifetime of knowing. Never think for one moment you are escaping from that life. You are only escaping the
"job" and merely being allowed to leave "active" duty.
So what I wish for you is that whenever you ease into retirement, in your heart you never forget for one moment that "Blessed are the Peacemakers for they shall be called children of God," and you are still a member of the greatest fraternity the world has ever known.
Civilian Friends vs. Veteran Friends
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Get upset if you're too busy to talk to them for a
week. VETERAN FRIENDS: Are glad to see you after years, and will happily carry on the same conversation you were having the last time you met.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Have never seen you cry. VETERAN FRIENDS: Have cried with you.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Borrow your stuff for a few days then give it back. VETERAN FRIENDS: Keep your stuff so long they forget it's yours.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Know a few things about you. VETERAN FRIENDS: Could write a book with direct quotes from you.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will leave you behind if that's what the crowd is
doing. VETERAN FRIENDS: Will kick the crowds' ass that left you behind.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Are for a while. VETERAN FRIENDS: Are for life.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Have shared a few experiences... VETERAN FRIENDS: Have shared a lifetime of experiences no citizen could ever dream of...
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will take your drink away when they think you've had
enough.
VETERAN FRIENDS: Will look at you stumbling all over the place and say, "You better drink the rest of that before you spill it!!"
Then carry you home safely and put you to bed...
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will talk crap to the person who talks crap about
you. VETERAN FRIENDS: Will knock the shit out OF THEM..... for using your name in vain.
CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will ignore this. VETERAN FRIENDS: Will forward this.
Once a Soldier always a Soldier!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
# posted by pokernights @ 8:26 PM
2/07/2008
Arrival @ New Flight
I was quickley interduced to the new T.I.(He was standing at the door waiting) first thing out of his mouth was your a fuc@ up because I am a recycler. He was on my as@ constantly. I reported to him and asked were is my bunk, he said right over there(pointing to the right) with the other fuc@ up recyclee. I thought to myself oh great! So he was in my face while I was unpacking all my gear. He looked through evey thing I had to find something but he didn't find anything. Finally after 30 minutes he left. I looked around and all the other men were looking at me of course I was center of attraction. They asked me what I done and I told them what happend the said I got the raw end of the stick. The only thing I was thinking about was to get through the next 25 days without any trouble. I asked if anyone had anything to eat. The other recyclee had some Twinkie's
he pulled them out of the bed post, I said that you are going to get caught because that is illegal contraband! He said that he gets hungry in the middle of the night and needs something to snack on, I said thank you for the twinkie's that really help out alot. After I ate them I flushed the wrappers down the toliet to conceal the evidence. I was told that there were going to be a new change in the morning. I wondered what that was?
We found out the first thing in the morning! Air Force cadets showed up. They are going to be working with the T.I.'s this was some new pilot program the Air Force initiated.
he pulled them out of the bed post, I said that you are going to get caught because that is illegal contraband! He said that he gets hungry in the middle of the night and needs something to snack on, I said thank you for the twinkie's that really help out alot. After I ate them I flushed the wrappers down the toliet to conceal the evidence. I was told that there were going to be a new change in the morning. I wondered what that was?We found out the first thing in the morning! Air Force cadets showed up. They are going to be working with the T.I.'s this was some new pilot program the Air Force initiated.
# posted by pokernights @ 9:56 AM
2/03/2008
Arrival @ New Squadron
I got to the new squadron around 9:00 am. I was told to wait outside the 1st Sergeant office. So I did, and I waited and waited. By this time it was 11:00 am and I was told to go eat lunch and report back. I went to the chow hall and ate. I got back to the office about 11:45 am and was told to report to the 1st Seageant. I went through the office door scared as hell as I did not know what to expect. I reported to him as I should. I noticed that he looked down at the office carpet, then all hell broke loose. His juglar veins popped out and he banged his fist on his desk, he said look at my f--king carpet!!! I looked down and to my horror saw my foot prints on the carpet!!!(On the way back from the chowhall I crossed over a drain that someone had emptied grease from the grill into and on the drain itself and of course my dumb as@ stepped into it and some how the old nasty grease stuck to the bottom of my boots!!) I said oh god to myself as I knew what was going to happen next. He jumped up out of his chair and started chewing me out, then he called for reinforcements more T.I.'s!!! By the end of it all there were 10 T.I.'s all circled around me all pointing thier fingers in my face and in my face. What a gaggle this was. I was made to do 100 pushups for every print on the carpet so I was there for 2 hours doing pushups. After that I was asked what was I going to do about the carpet? I said if you have a carpet cleaner I will get that dirt up. Guess what in about 5 minutes I did have a carpet cleaner and was cleaning the carpet. while I was cleaning the carpet the T.I.'s were hovering over me just going at it. By this time 2 more hours had passed so now it is 5:00pm. I was told that I was not getting any chow because of what I done. After the carpet was cleaned I was told to report to my new flight.
# posted by pokernights @ 6:01 PM
