Bad Day Part One

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When one door closes, another door opens.  I was considering leaving Facebook... when I got a post on my wall from a good friend Lisa about Lions and Tigers.  In my response I had to look for a link to my old Marine Corps squadron, HMM262, the Flying Tigers.  And there, I found photos that I spent the next two hours going through.  Many memories flooded my mind.

There were videos of stuff like this. And when you've lived like that, it can at times, be difficult to find things as  exciting in life outside the Corps.  This was every day life.  Lives were on the line.  Decisions you made, documents you signed, directly affected lives.

And there were some that I served with that did not make good decisions.  And they endangered lives along the way.

One particular day, which has had a more profound effect on me than any other, ended with four of my fellow Marines dead, one helicopter completely destroyed, one damaged and numerous lives to go on and never be the same.

It started the day before.  I was a hard charging Marine, flying around on CH-46 helicopters and loving every minute of it.  We were in Okinawa Japan at MCAS Futenma.

I headed out on a flight as Crew Chief with a hot-dog pilot named Comer.  I do not remember the co-pilot that day.

We were involved in 2v1, two versus one combat flight maneuvers where two CH-46 helicopters, flying in formation would engage in aerial combat with a fixed wing OV-10 aircraft.  There was also another helicopter involved that would circle the area, high above all the action, as an observer.  The choppers would rotate after each encounter so everyone got some training. I emphasize training because that is what we're involved in here and I learned in Non Commissioned Officers School, that when you're leading training, if you injure a fellow Marine, then you have defeated the purpose of training and weakened the best fighting force the world has ever known.

So, we're flying along at low level, trying to blend our camouflage paint scheme in with the terrain below, our wing-man behind and to the right.  We're vigilant out the windows, knowing the attack must come from above, since we're at a low level.

"Enemy spotted at 2 o-clock high," I shout.  It is relayed over the radio to the wing-man, who acknowledges. We stay in formation and continue until the enemy would spot us and radio to announce it.  Our response was "we have a tally," meaning we see everyone involved, us, the wing-man and the enemy, then announce "Fight's on!"

We turn to make the attack come from the rear.  As the enemy closed in, we split, now the OV-10 has to make a choice as to which one to follow.  We're zig-zagging away. The back of the air craft is twisting and turning.  We pop a torque ball on an indicator in the cock pit and I notice we violate the hard deck, by dropping below 200' AGL (200 feet above ground level).  Nothing but thick forest below.

The OV-10 chooses one of us and the other would then turn and get guns on the enemy intruder attacking our wing-man, announced with "guns, guns, guns," over the intercom.

Fight's off, and the OV-10 flies out of sight and we repeat the process allowing the wing-man to now lead and/or change places with the observation aircraft.

I'd flown in this and many other types of training, accumulating some 350+ hours at this point.  But on this day, it was the first time I'd ever felt afraid.  I mean, Marines just don't get afraid.  It's not in our DNA.

But the way that Comer was flying was inappropriate and I told him so.  I berated him.  I'd never spoken that way to a superior officer.  It was like treason, but when someone is doing what they should not be and lives are in jeopardy, something must be said.

He told me to chill out. So I laid down and strapped my self in and announced, "I QUIT!"  When the pilot and co-pilot turned to look in the back at me, Comer asked, "what the hell are you doing, Waters?"  I flipped them off and demanded to be taken back to the base.

My heart was pounding, my eyes were red and welled up and I felt like I was going to die if this type of flying went on for one more minute.  No one else in the flight training, outside of our aircraft, knew of the conflict in our chopper.  I refused to participate any further so we headed back to base.

I thought I might be in a heap of trouble.  When we landed and shut the chopper down, I exited the aircraft without a word and went directly to maintenance control, and told of Comer's flight habits.  They clearly saw that I was upset and seemed to want to just calm me down.   I said very loud, "if this does not stop some one is going to die!" Their faces understood my concern but their response was, "you don't want to ruin this guy's career."  I left in disgust and couldn't wait to get off work and get drunk.  I spoke to no one else about it.

I drowned the emotions that night at the E-Club.

The next day was a bad day.  

A very bad day.

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This is all I can write today, I'm overwhelmed.  I will continue it with a part two tomorrow.

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