Other than the prank I wrote about in my last short post, technical school at Keesler AFB was completely forgettable. The most important day there was the one where I got orders to return to Guam for a 2-year assignment as an orderly room specialist for the Avionics Maintenance Squadron of the 43rd Strategic Wing.
For all the aforementioned reasons I slipped right into the daily life and routine of the real Air Force. Now that Randy and I were both in the Air Force, life was really good. We had plenty of money, plenty of friends, plenty of excitement for two middle class-Midwest raised kids living on an island among a fascinating culture. We both enjoyed our jobs and being a part of something bigger than we were. The only thing we were short on was time together. Randy was gone TDY (temporary duty) a lot chasing typhoons. And when he was on island, he pulled a lot of weird shifts. Even that though, didn’t dampen our enthusiasm for the life we were living.
The Air Force had a program called Below the Zone (BTZ) where “exceptionally qualified airman first class” are promoted earlier than normal. Commanders nominate airmen under their command and the rigorous selection process includes an in-person interview with a panel of senior NCOs and officers. My age and maturity worked in my favor again and my commander nominated me for a BTZ promotion. I remember the interview well. I was asked why I thought I was qualified to be selected for early promotion. I answered that as the oldest of 6 siblings I grew up with a well-developed sense of responsibility. I believed, and acted as if, everyone and everything was my responsibility. It was, I think, my willingness to assume so much responsibility and take it so seriously that contributed to my military career success. I don’t know who I was competing against, but I was selected for the BTZ promotion.
In late 1980, for Typhoon Betty, the AF needed to evacuate all the B-52s from Guam to Okinawa because of an approaching hurricane. I was ordered to accompany the aircraft and aircrews during the evacuation to arrange billeting. Finding lodging for all of them was chaos. The next day, as we were on the aircraft sitting on the runway waiting for authorization to return to Guam, I spent a lot of time figuring out how to make that chaotic process smoother if we ever had to do it again. There were endless delays and after hours sitting in the stifling hot aircraft, we were told we weren’t leaving that day. I rushed to the front of the line to exit the aircraft and told a security policemen to not allow anyone into the billeting office until I gave the go ahead.
The billeting that day was significantly smoother than the first day, but everyone was pretty dang crabby. That poor security policeman took a lot of abuse helping me that day.
The same thing happened the next day. I spent a lot of time thinking of even more improvements to make to the system. We sat on on the aircraft all day again waiting to be released to return to Guam, only to be told, again, that we were staying yet another night. This third night the billeting process was smooth as silk. Practice makes perfect and in spite of all the crankiness, the billeting process was quick and easy for everyone.
The next day we did, finally, return home to Guam. Months later we learned that we’d been held in Okinawa those three extra days as a show of force to some aggressive North Korean behavior.
My efforts did not go unnoticed. I was nominated and selected to receive an Air Force Meritorious Service Medal (MSM) primarily for that one event. This was an exceptional honor as Meritorious Service Medals are most typically awarded only to senior NCOs and officers, often at the conclusion of a successful Air Force career. I never met anyone else who earned one as an airman. Wikipedia says that awarding one below the rank of E-6 is rare. So rare, in fact, that when we transferred to McClellan AFB in California in July 1982 the base commander walked into my orderly room one day. We all jumped to attention and asked how we could help him. He answered that he just came down to see for himself what an Airman who earned an MSM looks like.
I’m sure that the BTZ promotion and the events that led to the award of the MSM contributed to my selection as Airman of the Year for 3rd Air Division (which was the entire Pacific Theater) in 1982. Being recognized in that way, too, was a great honor. By then I was quite well known around the base and ugly rumors spread about how sleeping with senior officers was the only reason I was getting all the recognition. I thank God I learned years before that to be comfortable in my own skin and not be affected by things that were blatantly untrue.
In the spring of 1982, right after I’d been named Airman of the Year, and a few months before we were scheduled to rotate back to the States, I heard of a B-52 training mission to Australia. The rumor was they were taking one administrative person with them. I went to my Commander and expressed my desire to go on that training mission to Australia. He looked at me and said he’d heard they were taking someone from the General’s staff. I really wanted to go to Australia and knew this was my very best chance. I screwed up my courage and said, “well, Sir, I understand that. But here I am, just named the best airman in the entire Pacific this year, and I didn’t even get a parking space at the BX. I’d really like to go on that mission.”
He rolled his eyes, but he knew I had a point, he really liked me, and so said he’d ask the General. A few days later I got word I was going to Australia.
Randy envied me the events of that deployment to Australia. I’ll tell you all about it in next Tuesday’s post.
P.S. We desperately need rain here in SW Florida. Please pray or rain dance on our behalf!
Leave a Reply