We Played Putt-Putt Instead

BRK » 23 July 2008 » In Airman Howell, Non-WoW » 29 Comments

Part I.

In the Air Force, officers do not load C-5s; enlisted people do.

In the Air Force, officers do not move all the equipment out to the C-5 to be loaded; enlisted people do.

In the Air Force, officers fly the planes. They plan the routes, they devise the equipment lists, and do all sorts of planning and operational work.

But generally – and I could write a few notable exceptions – officers don’t lift things. Thus, enlisted people tend to… be creative when it comes to moving things about.

Part II.

“Airman Howell, want to go to Saudi?”

“Yeah!”

“OK, you leave in two days.”

That’s how I was chosen to go to Desert Storm for Operation Southern Watch.

Part III.

When taking stuff to a far-away location, the Air Force has lists. Many, many lists. In order to take a squadron of U-2 aircraft from Beale AFB to Taif AB, KSA, there was a great, honkin’ list of stuff we had to take. Assemble the stuff, get it to the C-5, load it, that’s the idea.

The aircraft load master gets a list of stuff that has to be loaded, uses a computer or formulas to calculate exactly where each piece of gear is going to be placed. This is done to optimize the weight distribution of the aircraft. This is critical stuff and mistakes can be deadly.

Part IV.

When first assigned to Beale AFB, I was part of the Electronic Security Command, not Air Combat Command. The U-2s belonged to ACC, the sensor systems belonged to ESC. As such, we were a “tenant unit”. We got all the privileges of living on an ACC base, and all the privileges of not owning the base.

We got a nice hunk of the maintenance facility in which to work, wired and polished to our specifications. The rest of the U-2 maintenance group got crap.

We got leased Ford trucks with air conditioning and radios. The rest of the U-2 maintenance group got crap.

Our supervisor brought a pool table and set it up in our maintenance bay. Because he wasn’t governed by ACC rules, that’s how.

Part V.

So we’re going to Saudi, we gotta get our stuff on the C-5. Test sets, tool boxes, and the rest of our junk. We got it all on pallets and the supply people came with their forklifts and hauled it to the flightline to get loaded. As a joke, our boss put the pool table on a pallet, strapped it down with webbing, and had it properly tagged as “Morale, Welfare, and Recreation Supplies”. Ha ha, very very funny, right?

Since our unit had never deployed, our stuff took longer to get ready than everybody else’s, so our pallets were the last ones to be loaded on the C-5. And at the back of that line, sat our palatalized pool table.

Part VI.

Paper-pushers have very little of a sense of humor.

“OK, we’ve got to make room for that last pallet, let’s get this stuff off the deck and upstairs!” the load master called. I tapped him on the shoulder and said,

“Hey guy… um, Sergeant? That thing isn’t coming.”

“It’s got paperwork and it’s on my manifest. It’s coming.”

“No no, it’s a joke. It’s not equipment.”

“It’s… MWR equipment, my load-plan is done, I’m not redoing it. Load it!”

“It’s a f-ing pool table!”

“I don’t care what it is. It’s on my list, my aircraft is balanced. It. Is. Going.”

And thus, the very last piece of equipment stuffed into my C-5 to Desert Storm was a very dirty but completely functional pool table.

Part VII.

California, Dover, Spain, Saudi. Slept with my head on a metal oxygen bottle. We landed at Taif AB, KSA, and taxied where a member of the local team met us on the plane.

“OK folks. When you disembark, form up on the line you’ll see on the ground, open your luggage, and the Saudi inspectors are going to check you for illegal material.”

“What’s illegal material?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Anything forbidden by their government, like pornography, alcohol, or gambling equipment.”

Is a pool table gambling equipment? I didn’t think so, but I didn’t want to deal with that kind of questioning from Saudi officials. Fortunately, I wasn’t anywhere close to senior or in charge. Heck, I wasn’t even in ACC; I was a “tenant unit”. And as such when we were lining up to exit the airplane, my lowly status ensured I was the very last person in line.

“OK, the forward door is jammed, we’re exiting down the ramp in back! Turn around!”

I was now the very first person in line. Lucky me, as the first person off the plane, I was first to meet the small contingent of Saudi inspectors.

Across the steaming hot tarmac, the C-5 started to disgorge its contents. Two hundred twenty members of the US Air Force, a couple hundred million dollars of high-tech surveillance and maintenance equipment, and leading the technology and manpower parade… the pool table.

And the inspectors started pointing and gesticulating at the thing, like it was the monolith from “2001 A Space Odyssey”. They got their translator and the ACC-contingent commander together and had a loud pow-wow. Then the commander came back to the group of us who just arrived.

“Who the H#LL owns that!” the commander yelled.

“It says, ‘ESC’ sir!” said the load master.

“Who here is from F-ING ESC!”

“He is, sir!” and of course, the load master pointed at me. The commander made a beeline…

“Airman Howell, is that your pool table?”

“It’s not really my table, sir. It belongs to my supervisor and it was put on last and I didn’t do the paperwork…”

“They want to try it.”

“Sir?”

“The inspectors would like to try your pool table.”

“Try it? Well they can have at it, sir.”

“Where are the cues and the balls?”

…

“Airman Howell, where are the cues and balls!?”

“I don’t think we packed them, sir…”

“YOU BROUGHT A POOL TABLE 5000 MILES TO SAUDI ARABIA AND DIDN’T PACK CUES AND BALLS?!”

“No sir. Well, yes sir, but you see the table wasn’t supposed to be…”

“You’re making me look like a G*DD@MN IDIOT in front of these inspectors, you know that! You think they’re going to BELIEVE that we brought a D@MN POOL TABLE and didn’t bring cues or balls!?!”

“It’s not my table…” and i shoved my chin into my chest, trying to hide.

And he stomped off, told the inspectors that nobody was going to be allowed to play the pool table because some dumb@ss from ESC forgot to pack cues and balls for the MWR pool table they put on the C-5 as a joke.

The inspectors looked mad. Really mad. I’d been feet-dry for 30 seconds and already pissed off the Saudi government. They walked off, gesticulating in a manner I swear looked like they were using a cue to break.

Three weeks later, as requested, my supervisor had a brand new set of cues and balls shipped to Saudi, at his personal expense.

The pool table, of course, had been commandeered by the pilots and put in their ready-room. It was being used as a conference table. I never got to use it.

And as far as I know, it’s still over there.

Comments

Copyright © 2010 BigRedKitty • BRK theme by Paravel Communications