Chapter Five--a short detour down patriotic lane
Reader, note the comment thanking me for my service to my country in the “comments” section after the previous chapter. This has stirred me to response. So, please allow me a short detour of the love story. I’ll get back on track later.
Initially I volunteered to “serve my country” much more for economic reasons than patriotic ones. There was not a shooting war during those days, but we had our enemy. We were to be always and forever ready to respond to an attack from any direction. We used words like cold-war, nuclear deterrent, early warning systems and nuclear strike capability. Long-range and fighter aircraft were being reinvented almost constantly.
I taught Tennessee farm boys, New Yorkers and even airmen and officers from NATO countries, among others, how to troubleshoot and repair generators, starters, ignition systems, inverters, compass systems, autopilots, actuators and flight control systems on the B-29, the B-36, C-119, F-86, the F-101 and a host of other airplanes that memory fails to recall. The men in my classes learned about volts, ohms, resisters, pentodes, and triodes and NPN and PNP transistors, bridge networks, phases, direct current. voltage regulators and how to use a Simpson meter. Our motto was to “keep ‘em flying” and I think we were successful.
It was real and effective vocational education. In four and a half months we would process a 19-year old boy into a knowledgeable and capable flight line electrician who could work on the most sophisticated equipment of the day on live flight lines all over the world. I know this because that’s what happened to me, only they then made me teach it to others instead of actually doing it.
It is amazing as I sit to write this that all that stuff is still in my head after all these years. I have several documents, mementos, diplomas and certificates on the wall in my little office here at the house. Each one has meaning, but the three honorable discharges, one from the Marines, one from the Air Force and one from a later stint in the Army Reserve, still give me a sense of pride for having been there and done that. And when I see an honor guard post the colors at a public gathering, or see a TV shot of the flag with the National Anthem playing, especially the one with the shot of the jets flying by in formation, I can’t help it, tears run down my face.
Initially I volunteered to “serve my country” much more for economic reasons than patriotic ones. There was not a shooting war during those days, but we had our enemy. We were to be always and forever ready to respond to an attack from any direction. We used words like cold-war, nuclear deterrent, early warning systems and nuclear strike capability. Long-range and fighter aircraft were being reinvented almost constantly.
I taught Tennessee farm boys, New Yorkers and even airmen and officers from NATO countries, among others, how to troubleshoot and repair generators, starters, ignition systems, inverters, compass systems, autopilots, actuators and flight control systems on the B-29, the B-36, C-119, F-86, the F-101 and a host of other airplanes that memory fails to recall. The men in my classes learned about volts, ohms, resisters, pentodes, and triodes and NPN and PNP transistors, bridge networks, phases, direct current. voltage regulators and how to use a Simpson meter. Our motto was to “keep ‘em flying” and I think we were successful.
It was real and effective vocational education. In four and a half months we would process a 19-year old boy into a knowledgeable and capable flight line electrician who could work on the most sophisticated equipment of the day on live flight lines all over the world. I know this because that’s what happened to me, only they then made me teach it to others instead of actually doing it.
It is amazing as I sit to write this that all that stuff is still in my head after all these years. I have several documents, mementos, diplomas and certificates on the wall in my little office here at the house. Each one has meaning, but the three honorable discharges, one from the Marines, one from the Air Force and one from a later stint in the Army Reserve, still give me a sense of pride for having been there and done that. And when I see an honor guard post the colors at a public gathering, or see a TV shot of the flag with the National Anthem playing, especially the one with the shot of the jets flying by in formation, I can’t help it, tears run down my face.
posted by David R. Snow at 9:27 AM
1 Comments:
Ditto to the thanks for your service. It makes me think of the millons of young men and women who have volunteered over the years to serve in the military.
Some would argue it is unfair, because it draws from the poor and uneducated who cannot find work anywhere else. I would counter that it is a noble way to provide a living and skills training for men and women who might otherwise turn to welfare, or crime to survive. And, far and away the largest proportion of those who do volunteer do so proudly and come out of the experience better citizens.
Looking back on my own experience, I came of age in the middle of the Viet Nam war, and when I was about to be drafted, I decided I did not want to go off to the jungle and be shot at, so I managed to stay in school and ride out a student deferrment.
But, in retrospect, I realize that with my education, the chances were good that I could have ended up in a support area and never seen Viet Nam or the battlefield--especially if I had joined the AIr Force or even the Navy. Looking back on my life, I think I would have been a better person if I had done that.
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