T-Tail-Tall-Tail:
A Hungry Pilot
An Angry Loadmaster
Eddie A. Lomeli, Msgt. USAF, Retired
100% Empty or 0% Full?
It was early February 1971, and the Vietnam War was
raging. I had just
returned to active duty from the Air Force Reserves.
This particular time I was
assigned to fly a mission to Vietnam and return; I
was the primary Loadmaster.
I had an assistant this time, a young Airman Second
Class, (E-3) fresh out of
tech school. The crew was made up of two pilots, two
flight engineers, and us
two loadmasters. The mission would take us to
Vietnam, with stops at Travis
AFB, Hicham AFB Hawaii, Wake Island, Kadena AB
Okinawa, Vietnam and back.
Our alert call was very late at night; it was just
before midnight, which meant
that our departure would be around 3:00 am. Some of
our pre-departure duties
included load briefing, planning and sequencing,
plus ordering meals and
beverages for the crew. We lucked out and didn't
have passengers for this leg.
That meant we'd be able to rest at some point.
Since it was my assistant's first trip overseas, I
briefly explained to him
what he could expect as far as crew duty day length
and responsibilities. I
figured, that we would have plenty of time later on
the flight to get into more
detail about what he could expect and what was
expected of him. I also
explained to him that most of the time, our duties
would require us to remain
at the aircraft during our ground times, while the
rest of the crew would go
inside, file a flight plan and eat at the snack bar.
We would not have that
luxury and couldn't count on anyone bringing us any
food either. I had already
been through that myself.
After checking in at the squadron and our Mission
Control office, we made our
way to check with Passenger Service to make sure and
cover our required stops.
We also stopped and ordered the coffee for the crew
and a snack for my young
assistant.
At Travis AFB, as predicted, we both had to remain
at the aircraft to supervise
the loading, since it was fairly complicated.
Besides, there were several other
aircraft ahead of us, so it would take a while. The
loading went as advertised,
without a hitch. When the other crew members
returned, one of the flight
engineers, the one who I had asked to bring me back
a hamburger and a coke,
didn't do it, and claimed that he forgot. Since I
didn't have time to go in
myself, I went hungry.
A couple of hours later, halfway over the Pacific
Ocean, my assistant decided
to eat his snack. Imagine his surprise, when he
reached into the icebox and
found it empty. His meal was nowhere to be found. I
knew that a meal had been
brought to the aircraft, because I signed for it
before we left Norton AFB.
We set out to find his meal and started looking in
the galley area and
vicinity, to no avail. I then went up to the flight
deck and asked the
engineers first, they hadn't seen it. I looked
around thinking that maybe
someone else might've put it in the flight deck for
safekeeping or something.
As I looked toward the pilot's seat, there lo, and
behold, against the wall
next to him was a white cardboard box, just like the
missing meal. I knew
immediately what it was; it didn't take a genius to
figure out what had
happened. I also noticed that it was empty already.
I went back to the cargo compartment and told my
assistant where his box lunch
was. I suggested that he go and ask the pilot why he
ate it, and that he demand
payment from him. He decided against it, he said
that it wasn't that big a
deal.
I knew better and explained to him the
ramifications; this man had to be
stopped. This behavior couldn't be allowed to
continue unchecked. I pointed out
to him that he couldn't even claim the pilot as a
dependent. The young airman
refused, he didn't want to match two stripes against
two silver bars. However,
I didn't have that problem, since I had four and was
not afraid to make waves.
I decided to take charge of this situation; a change
had to be made.
I went back up to the flight deck and slid onto the
seat between the pilots,
commonly known as the jump seat. I tapped the pilot
on the shoulder and said to
him, "Sir, we need to talk."
He slid his headset off the right ear, leaned over
toward me and asked, "What's
up, Sergeant Lomeli?"
I asked him if he'd ordered a meal out of Norton and
he said he hadn't. I told
him that my assistant had planned his activities
accordingly and had ordered a
snack out of home station and now it was gone. I
explained to him that the box
next to him was the only thing in the aircraft that
resembled a box lunch and
if he hadn't ordered a box lunch, how did that box
get so close to him and so
empty?
His reply really angered me, but I tried not to show
it. He said, "Well, I was
hungry. I didn't have anything to eat and then I
found that box in the crew
galley, so I took it."
I was angry and expressed my displeasure and dismay
at his inconsiderate
actions. I mentioned to him the effects of his
behavior on his subordinates'
morale. Hell, he wouldn't dare do it to one of his
peers, or would he? This
conversation took less than two minutes. I figured I
better quit before I said
something that might get me in trouble.
I went back to the cargo compartment and further
lectured my assistant on his
options, and I stressed the fact that a stop at Mac
Donald's was not one of
them. I again stressed the fact that he had to stand
up for his rights and that
if he let this man get away with it, he would just
keep on doing it, but he
didn't want to do anything about it. He said he
didn't want to make any waves.
I knew then that it would be up to me to do
something, in order to prevent this
kind of thing from happening again.
The following day, on the next leg, wouldn't you
know it, history repeated
itself; the pilot ate the young loadmaster's meal
again. We were halfway to
Wake Island, when my assistant loadmaster decided to
eat his meal, imagine the
shock; his meal was gone again. This took me aback;
I didn't expect it to
happen again, especially after all the commotion the
previous day. As soon as
we discovered it missing, I went to the flight deck
and spotted the empty box
next to the pilot; just like the day before. This
jerk was a slow learner and
getting good at it. I knew I really had to do
something about it; this could
not be ignored any longer. I went and tapped the
pilot on the shoulder. He slid
his headset off the right ear, cocked his head and
asked, "What can I do for
you, sergeant Lomeli?"
I told him in a solemn and controlled tone of voice,
"Sir, please take off your
headset, so we can talk. I want to have your full
attention and I don't want
the radio or intercom to interrupt us, before I say
what I need to say."
He took the headset off and put it over his right
knee as he looked at me with
a puzzled look. I asked him about the meal and he
came out with the same lame
excuse from the day before. I didn't like it the day
before, and I liked it
even less this time. I mentioned the fact that his
actions were highly
detrimental to the morale of the enlisted in the
unit, and that it wasn't
enhancing his standing with his peers either. I
didn't see the slightest hint
of remorse during our discussion.
I thought I'd better end this discussion quick, so I
said to him, "I'll tell
you what, you owe my assistant loadmaster for two
snacks at seventy cents each,
which is a dollar and forty cents. And while we are
at it, I have nominated
you, to pay for the crew coffee for the whole trip."
He said to me, "Why seventy cents per snack? He only
paid thirty-five cents
each that's half. I don't see why I should have to
pay seventy cents, when he
only paid thirty-five cents each."
I told him, "You are right sir, he didn't pay that
much, but you would have.
That will be $1.40, cash, and I will take it now."
He grudgingly reached into his flight suit pocket
and pulled out his money. He
counted two dollars and fifty cents and put it in my
cupped hand. I turned
toward my second loadmaster and gave it to him. "Now,
for the coffee, that will
be two dollars more, please." I got the money and put
it in my pocket. The young
loadmaster couldn't believe what he had just seen, a
staff sergeant getting the
best of a pilot.
The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful, and this
situation did not repeat
itself for the rest of the trip. All the way home, I
kept wrestling with my
thoughts ... Should I forget the whole thing? Should I
file a complaint? It was a
tough decision to make and I kept toying with the
idea.
It was early morning when we got back to Norton, our
home station, I decided
to finish the job; it was almost too easy. While
finishing up our duties prior
to going home, the Operations Officer walked up to
us enlisted crew members and
asked how it had gone. It was almost like he already
knew, but wanted me to say
it, because he sure seemed to be very interested in
me and me and my young
assistant. I couldn't hold it anymore, so I said to
him, "I need to talk to you
in your office."
As soon as we walked in, he asked what the problem
was and I told him. I went
into great detail about the pilot's actions and how
I responded to them. I
thought I could detect a hint of a smile, but he
just nodded and said that he'd
take care of it without delay. He also told me that
this pilot had been known
to do this kind of thing from time to time. He said
that he was impressed with
the way I handled it. He liked my ingenuity and
daring, since not too many
people would've handled it the same way. He thanked
me for my input, and now it
was time to go and finish the job.
I walked out of his office and he followed me out to
the hallway and in a
fairly loud voice called the pilot into his office.
We all knew what was to
follow, some good old-fashioned butt chewing; we
were not disappointed.
The building was at the end of one of the hangars
and the hallway went forever,
it seemed like. The ceilings were very tall, but the
walls were no higher than
the ones in the average house; that left a lot of
room for sound to travel, and
travel it did. We all got an earful of the one sided
conversation. The pilot
could only say, "Yes, sir." " No, sir." "I am sorry,
sir." "It won't happen
again, sir.""
As soon as the Operations Officer finished with him,
the Squadron Commander,
Lt. Colonel Bailey took over. Man, this man could do
some butt chewing, he was
a real pro at it; we all enjoyed the show. I left
before the whole thing was
over and went home.
I don't know if he ever ate anyone else's meal
again, but if he did, I never
heard about it. Our paths never crossed again and I
never missed him anyway.
I must add in closing, that this was an extremely
rare incident. For the most
part, the officers that I had the pleasure to work
with, both on the ground and
in the air were outstanding individuals. I had the
distinct pleasure to serve
with some of the finest officers and enlisted
personnel that I could've asked
for.
My assignment to the 14th MAS, (Military
Airlift Squadron) at
Norton, was one of my most enjoyable assignments. It
was a class organization
and didn't have too many people like the one
mentioned in this story. This
anecdote is true, as are all the facts. Some of the
names involved escape me,
after all, it has been thirty years plus, and names
and faces do get clouded by
Father Time. However, the facts remain vividly
engraved in my memory bank.
Eddie
More Box Lunch Info
Here's a couple of Letters to the Editor from Airman
magazine, February
2001. To read the original article that inspired
these two letters see Booms
Know What's Cookin, October '00.
BOX NASTIES
Letter #1
Dear AIRMAN:
IT WAS VERY BRAVE of Senior Airman Martin to call
his flight meal a 'box
nasty'.
He may want to make a close inspection of his next
flight meal. I find it
unfortunate 'services bashing' is so popular this
magazine would actually think
it's OK to print such comments. It's hard enough to
motivate and retain quality
services airmen without them reading derogatory
comments about the job they do
in a magazine that should be supportive of all Air
Force members. While
'Airman' may not share Martin's views on the quality
of meals provided,
printing his comment was unnecessary and added
nothing to the article. You
could have said he preferred his cooking to the
flight meals. I hope you
exercise a little editorial license next time, and
Martin learns to respect and
appreciate the people who work hard to support him.
Tech. Sgt. Don Bowles
Kadena Air Base, Japan
Letter #2
Dear AIRMAN:
I WAS PLEASED to see boom operators are being
creative at 32,000 feet with
their ovens. However, some of my staff and I were
slightly tweaked at the
article, which could have just focused on the
creativity of two aircrew members
baking sweet rolls on long flights, but instead
chose to play the 'box nasty'
card. Wouldn't it have been easier to refer to your
high-flying cooking skills
as an alternative or supplement to the great flight
meals from the food service
folks at Fairchild Air Force Base? This might seem
frivolous, but frankly, when
you perpetuate terms like 'chow hall' and
'bag-nasty,' it shows no respect for
the services professionals who bust their tails to
make sure you don't go
hungry. If the meals are really that bad, then it
might be worth a visit to the
flight kitchen manager with some ideas for
improvement.
Senior Master Sgt. Owen Davies
Elmendorf Air Force Base, Alaska
At Microsoft they have a saying, "We eat our own dog
food.", which seems
especially relevant in this discussion. The phrase
refers to the idea that they
actually use the software they foist off on the rest
of us computer users.
I wonder how many box lunches these two guys
actually ever ate at 0300 in a
cold C-141 at 35,000 feet over who-knows-where?
Please contact
me via email if you
know.