WHISKEY FLIGHT

I was a Flight Chief as a Staff Sergeant in the Air Force.

It was 1983 at Laughlin AFB, Texas. I was working in Whiskey Flight in the T-38 Branch when Chief Melton called me to his office. When I got there, my neighbor and friend Alan Jones was already there. The Chief got right down to business.

“This base has been base has been homesteaded with controlled five-year tour since I can remember. AFMPC has caught up with us and PCS’d all my Master Sergeants except three. Two will be the Branch Chiefs and one will stay in Delta flight and retire. I’ve got to come up with eight Flight Chiefs, three in the T-37’s and five in the T-38’s. All my Technical Sergeants will be Flight Chiefs and I’m two short. That’s why I called you two to see me. You’re the best Staff Sergeants I’ve got. I know this sucks on ice, but I want you to be Flight Chiefs. I will help you as much as possible and my door will always be open to you. Will you volunteer for this?”
Al and I looked at each other. We both said “Yes” at the same time. Al got Yankee Flight and I got Whiskery Flight.

WHISKEY FLIGHT

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St. Laurent’s jet.

Let me back track a little and tell you how I got there. I was working Aero-Repair on F-4’s at Kunsan AB, Korea. I met my replacement on the way out. To make it even weirder, I was replacing at Laughlin AFB, Texas. Specifically, Whiskey Flight. He said I’d love it. “Whiskey is where they put everyone on appellant leave, awaiting court martial or under investigation. You’ll LOVE IT!”

With that info under my hat, I reported for my first day. I grabbed a chair and sat next to the Flight Chief desk. It was literally a crew chief shack, about 20 by 40 feet. The airmen were at the other end and were playing grab ass and horsing around and smoking.

Seven o’clock came and went with no roll call, no Flight Chief. When I asked the room where he was I was told he was “Always fucking late”. Through the window, I could see the other flights forming up shoulder to shoulder for the morning FOD walk to the taxiway and back. A morning ritual that has every little rock and screw picked up before it can damage a jet engine. When they got to the far end, I started looking for someone in our flight.

I spotted a Senior Airman, three stripes. When he turned I saw his name.
“Airman Michelson?”*
“Yes sir.”
“What are we supposed to be doing?”
“I guess we should be doing the FOD walk.”
“Well why don’t you take the guys out and do the FOD walk?”
It was suddenly quiet. Everyone looking at me. Then more than a few starts to come at me and they weren’t going to talk. Michelson was in the middle.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Does anyone know this guy?”
I pointed at the roster board and said, “I’m Staff Sergeant Chamberlain, incoming personnel.” The crowd was visibly unimpressed. “Wait a minute”, Michelson repeated. “We should do the FOD walk because he might be a Narc.”

They at the far end when our Flight Chief showed up.
“Where in the fuck is everybody?”
“They’re out doing the FOD walk.”
“Who made them do that?”
“I did.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Pointing to the roster I said, “Staff Sergeant Chamberlain, incoming personnel.” He said, “Congratulations. Comeback at 1600, you’re the Swing Shift Supervisor.”

*Later I found out that “Airman” Michelson was really 1st Lt Michealson, OSI.

NOW I WAS THE FLIGHT CHIEF

The first thing I did was to hold Roll Call outside. In ranks, three lines please. The second thing was to improve appearance. It was AFR 35-10 back then. Anyone refusing my suggestions got a trip to the orderly room to chat with the First Sergeant.

Every shack had a U.S. Flag on it. Like the ones you have at home. The convention was to have someone grab it and stick it up. That ended immediately. At the close of roll call, everyone does an about face and salutes as the “someone” picked stuck the flag up. At first the other flights stood, stared and laughed. Then I noticed Yankee Flight forming up and soon every flight was doing this. If we were busy, the flag detail was increased to two. One to stick it up and one to salute. Sometimes they took the initiative, and both would salute.

After a couple of months, we started winning Flight of the Month. Three times in a row. When we cleared all of our delayed discrepancies over the Christmas/New Years break, Chief Melton came down to see what the fuck I was doing.

Most of the airman couldn’t get a security clearance to get assigned overseas or to a “fightin’ unit”. During the break, I went to the Student Squadron and checked out a projector and all the strike films they had. I then gave them a choice. They could be outside doing bullshit things like trimming grass or wiping down airplanes or they could be in a nice warm flight shack watching movies.

Here are some examples of the movies. Turn off the sound because ours didn’t have sound.

The movie ticket was an AFTO Form 349 that documented the repair of a delayed discrepancy. With the old part that was replaced. By New Years, guys who were off would throw on a uniform and come down to work to watch the films.

Chief Melton just shook his head, said “Brilliant” and left.

We had legendary Flight parties too.  One epic party lasted four day of the Memorial Day weekend and was held at three different locations.  It started in my quarters.  There were five parties going on.  Smokers in the front yard.  Wives in the living room.  The Drinkers in the kitchen where a full bar was set up and the rowdies in the backyard.  It went from there to the Lake, then Royce’s house  and wound up at the dorms.  Just in time to put uniforms on and go to work.  About eight people were being reassigned and leaving the flight.  Including “Butt Plug” who was going to Hahn to be a Lucky Puppy.

Civilians and non-Air Force types can click here for the translations of the Air Force Slang used in this post.

The Pager Lady

The biggest lie in retail is “The customer is always right.”

This story takes place at Radio Shack. It was Christmas time and we were swamped on a regular basis. During this time, we sold a pager to a woman that we would later dub “The Pager Lady”. She was either on crack or maybe she was bi-polar. We were guessing. She was white, middle-aged and always dressed in a very sexy (?) manner. She sometimes wore a fur stole. She also swore like a sailor.

POTTY MOUTH WILL BE USED TO TELL THIS STORY

She was back several times to bitch about her pager. She was always threatening to “Kick someone’s ass.” At one point our manager (picture Brittany Spears) put her name badge on the counter and said, “You call me Bitch one more time and we’ll go round.” Mike was behind her and I was behind “The Pager Lady” and we nodded at each other. Mike would take our manager and I would grab the pager lady and keep a fight from breaking out.
Another time Pager Lady was standing in line and loudly proclaimed,

“I’M LOSING $400 A DAY BECAUSE THIS FUCKING PAGER WON’T WORK.”

A drunk, about four people back in line said,
“$400 a day of a pager? What are you? A prostitute?  I have money on me?”
“Oh Christ”, I thought. She was going to fight a customer. With a loud “FUCK YOU”, she stormed out of the store. That was a close one. We eventually refunded her pager and it cheerfully buzzed on our return shelf until it fell off and buzzed until the battery died. We 86’d her out of the store.

I SWEAR THIS WENT DOWN EXACTLY LIKE THIS.

After Christmas, Rusty and I were smoking in the back and watching the security cam. Mike was fiddling with stuff under the counter. We see the Pager Lady walk in. No one else is in the store. I turn to Rusty and say, “You’re my 911 guy. If she starts shit, start dialing.”
She walks up to the counter.
“I’m sorry for being so rude. I have a question. Can you help me?”
Mike doesn’t look up and starts slowly shaking his head.
“You have to answer my question. You have to answer my question.”:
Mike says, “What’s your question?”
Shaking a paper in Mike’s face…..
“WHY AM I GETTING A MOTHERFUCKING BILL?????”
Mike goes back to shaking his head.
“DON’T SHAKE YOUR FUCKING HEAD! WHAT’S YOUR FUCKING NAME?”
“My name is Mike.”
“YOUR LAST NAME ASSHOLE.”
“My name is Mike, I work at Radio Shack.”
‘THIS IS YOUR LAST DAY AT RADIO SHACK MOTHERUCKER.”
Which was ironic because Mike was Christmas help and it really was his last day. Mike didn’t give a rat’s ass.
At this point I head out with Rusty in trail.
From behind the counter I said, “Calm down Ma’am. I’m sure we can solve this problem.”
“Calm down. If you don’t stop cussing, I’ll be forced to dial 911.”
When I said the last “one” she reached over the counter and hit me in the face with a great right hook. Shed fled from the store, Mike and Rusty hot on her tacky heels.

THE NEXT DAY

I come in the store to find Rusty and Darren watching the security tape on all 32 TV’s on display. No one is in the store.
RUSTY: “Watch this, watch this. Now.”
POP!
DARREN: “Damn. He doesn’t even move.”
RUSTY: “She hit him hard.”
DARREN: “Damn”
ME: “If you want to watch it guys, take it in the back.”

Popping the tape out, they head to the backroom. I start counting down the drawer when our District Manager walks in. He’s got a video camera and is filming each store for an “After Christmas Clean up Contest”.
“Heard you had some excitement last night”
“Yeah, the boys are watching the tape in back.”
“Oooo, a tape”
He heads back and emerges a few minutes later. As he heads for the door he says,
“Don’t worry. You won’t be charged.”
“Wait a minute. Charged with what?”
“She called Fort Worth this morning and said you sexually assaulted her  in the store.”

The Pager Lady was my worst customer.

Do you have a bad customer? Tell your story.