More Stuff Top Gun Never Mentions
[Note: Prior pieces in this series can be found at AMST 1, AMST 2, AMST 3, AMST 4, AMST 5, AMST 6, AMST 7]
PostScript to a Crash
After “the crash” – as I like to think of it – the squadron performed several miracles of the mechanical and financial variety. First, they got our aircraft off of that hilltop, amidst some very inhospitable terrain, which was no mean feat of engineering and persistence. Second, they managed to get those thousands-of-parts-in-close-formation back to the airfield, so that they could perform the most amazing miracle of all: re-assembling and rebuilding a completely wrecked aircraft and thereby reclassifying our mishap from a (clear and obvious) Class “A” mishap – think of it as the felony of mishaps – into a Class “C” mishap, something more akin to the heavy-speeding ticket of mishaps. This is no small matter; a Class A is something that both Bill and I would have carried with us – a reportable offense, as it were – for the entirety of our careers. As far as I’m concerned, Col. Richard E. “Saint” St. Pierre, USMC, should have the same status for my progeny as JFK does for the South Boston Irish: his picture in their homes on the wall, alongside the Crucifix and the blessed mother.1
In a perfect world, Bill and I would have flown AH-1W BUNO 160815 triumphantly out of the EAF at 29 Palms, California, at the end of CAX 10 directly into the setting southwest sun bound for MCAS Yuma, with the “Top Gun” credit music playing triumphantly… but alas, the CO thought it best if I go home to my wife and two kids with the main body of the squadron. Bill, however, did get to fly good ol’ “06” down to Yuma by himself. The squadron loaned that aircraft and a few others to the WTI course that was set to begin in Yuma later that month.
I got to experience something that most of the pilots in my squadron had at one time or another over the course of their careers, with one or more of their kids – I know this because when I told this story to Bill, he chuckled knowingly and told me that the same thing had happened with his oldest daughter when she was around the same age. It goes like this…
I’ve been away for something like 8 weeks, 56 days. The oldest daughter is 10 years and our newest is now 18 months old. She was 16 months old when I left. It’s in the middle of the day and Oldest is at school. My wife, after hugging me, runs to our daughter’s room, brings her down the hall, her little shoes echoing on the hard, laminate floors, and my wife says, “Look, Becca, Daddy’s home!! It’s Daddy!!” And when my daughter sees me, it’s not very long, but it’s unmistakable – for a few moments, my daughter doesn’t recognize me. Her face crinkles and she starts crying, darts behind her mother’s leg, afraid of me. My heart breaks into a million pieces and the tears run down my face unbidden.
I am a stranger to my own child.
It didn’t take her very long to warm back up to me, but no one had prepared me for that. As I noted above, when I told Bill about this, he kinda laughed, slapped me on the thigh, and got up from his seat in the Ready Room. “Yeah, heh heh,” he chuckled knowingly. “Barney, my friend…” he looked me right in the eyes and put his hand on my shoulder, “welcome to the Club.”
We all rationalize putting our kids through this – my kids through this – a millions ways. You can cloak it in all kinds of moral, patriotic, nationalistic, necessity, and even historical or heroic terms – “Bro, your distant Viking ancestors went on conquests and raids for years at a time…”
But no warrior I’ve ever known or respected who went through it doesn’t have moments – in times alone with nothing but silence and darkness – who doesn’t have deep misgivings, who doesn’t wish that moment would not have happened.
Well, except for one guy…
In Which a Pilot Tells the Funniest, and Most Revealing, Story About a Mishap in Aviation History
Not too long after the squadron returned, a group of us were “chopped” – detached from our home squadron, the Gunrunners of HML/A-269 – and sent to form a composite squadron, part of a complete aviation package that would spend the next six months training to go on a 6-month long deployment to the Mediterranean Sea and surrounding areas. This is life in an HML/A squadron: one detachment is always gone, one has just returned, and there’s another group at home training new guys for the next Det coming up. Add in two CAXes and two WTI courses per year and it’s no easy job to make it all work.
In practical terms, leaving our home squadron and attaching to the HMM-263 Thunder Eagles meant that we took our record books and other essentials about 100 yards to the other end of the giant hangar that housed 269 at the far end, and then 167, and then 263 (I think). It didn’t really make that much of a physical change in our environment, but we left behind our squadronmates and had to integrate ourselves into a CH-46E squadron – someone else’s spaces – along with a det of Harriers from Cherry Point, 4 CH-53Es from the next hangar over, aviation support dets from the supply and logistics squadrons, people who set up forward airfields, ordnancemen, refuelers, you name it – super-squadron that in 6 months of training together would have to pass our Special Operations Capable Exercise (SOCEX), so that we could join the Navy’s Carrier Battle Group to become a complete Amphibious Task Force… and travel around the Med looking for someone to give us an excuse to unleash Hell and Fury upon them.
During our 6 months of “workups,” we continued to advance our individual qualifications, while also spending more time flying with other aircraft types in larger formations and operations of increasing complexity in different environments – at sea, ship-to-shore, and then ashore after coming from ship, etc. We would occasionally drop by our home squadron (269) just to see how things were going or say hi to friends.
The Setup…
When shooting practice autorotations in Fleet aircraft, about the time you begin the “flare” – the last 200’ or so – you slowly roll the throttles back on and then complete the autorotation – the “pull” – with the power back up to full, thus ensuring that you don’t smack the ground and risk bending the skids on a perfectly good aircraft. In other words, while we learned to do full “power off” – i.e. real – autos to the ground in Bell 206s, Fleet aircraft are much heavier and easier to bend, so you don’t do full autos in the Fleet unless, well, it’s the real McCoy like ours the year prior.
The normal runway in use is 05/23 because of winds off the water, but on days when that pattern is “clogged” (busy) with a bunch of aircraft, and/or when winds are amenable, you can use a short pattern on 01/19 and stay clear of 05/23. If you’re using 01/19, you make a right hand turn and the downwind leg of the pattern takes you right over officer base housing. Where we lived, on the corner of Longstaff Street, was perhaps 150 yards from the compass rose at the southernmost end of the airfield. At the edge of officer housing, there was a playground where moms would frequently take the young kids to frolic on the swings and slide and they could watch the helicopters taking off and landing and buzzing around the pattern. Among the first things the moms would teach their children was how to distinguish between the various helos – skinny-skid Cobras, chubby-skid Hueys, mammoth 53Es, and the twin top-rotors of the venerable CH-46E – so the kids would know “Daddy’s” aircraft.
Just a few weeks before our scheduled departure, we were back home for some “block leave” where we were basically given liberal time off to spend with our families prior to leaving them for the next six months. Our scheduled fly date was our younger daughter’s 2nd birthday – March 23, 1995. (Yes, the one who ran away from me when I had returned 6 months prior).
I don’t remember if I was flying, if I saw it happen live, or if I heard it, but a Huey from our sister squadron – HML/A-167 – was shooting autorotations to runway 01/19 – the north/south runway at MCAS New River and he mushed through the flare, didn’t get the throttles back up in time, smacked the tail, causing the aircraft to slap into the ground, tumble, and break up a good bit. No one was seriously injured, but the aircraft was pretty busted up.
… and the Punchline
I went into 269 the next day to see some folks before our departure, say goodbye, and see if I could catch some scuttlebutt on who had crashed the Huey. Dennis J. Kiely was the son of a Marine Corps F-4 pilot who served in Vietnam. Deej Kiely was, and probably still is, a walking hurricane of humanity. A big Irishman who liked to drink and fight and used to openly admit that – hell, sometimes he introduced himself that way. By Dennis’ account, “The Great Santini and my old man would’ve got on fine.” Deej got his commission from the Virginia Military institute when they could still really haze frosh. He was a mid-grade Captain – a Huey pilot – when I first got to HML/A-269 and one funny sonuvabitch.
Dennis and his wife Meg and their kids lived just a skip down the road in base housing, right near the small park and jungle gym in front of base housing. As I walked into the Ready Room and said my hellos, I was certain Dennis would know who balled up the Huey the day prior. Of course Dennis did, a pilot whose call sign was, unironically, “Lucky” – but after telling me what he had heard, he had an even better story to tell…
“So Meg and Deej Junior were out at the park out behind our house, you know, the one fronting the field?” I nodded.
“Well, Lucky’s up there in the pattern shooting autos and Deej is pointing at the Huey going, ‘daddy, daddy, daddy’s plane’ and Meg’s all proud of him, ‘Yes, Buddy! Yes, that’s Daddy!’…”
“Oh no,” I said, my hand coming to my mouth.
“Oh, yeahh. So right after Meg’s like, ‘Look, look, Daddy’ – of course I was on duty yesterday so I’m not even fuckin’ flying, but she’s tryna get the lil man to get his aircraft recognition skills up – and the very next moment, Lucky mushes through the auto and smashes to bits and Deej, watching horrified, bursts into tears, ‘NOOOO!!! DADDY!!! NOOOO!!!!!’” and Meg’s trying to now explain to a 3 year-old that that wasn’t me specifically but just my aircraft and I didn’t just die in that mishap.”
We’re all sitting around laughing hysterically as Dennis imitates his son’s horrified visage, his wife trying to calm their son down, and then Dennis gets up flippantly and says, “Yeah, so I’ve gotta start saving for that fucking therapy session 20 years from now” and we are all in absolute stitches laughing at what had to be one of the most traumatic incidents any child could possibly experience – maybe more laughing at Dennis’ cavalier re-telling of the whole thing – but the whole incident for me pretty well summarizes the gallows humor that pervaded being a helicopter pilot.
So I offer this as a bookend to my own experience with my daughter not knowing me. In some ways, all of Life’s tragedies can be viewed as Comedy through the right lens. Raising a glass of Irish whiskey – Catholic whiskey, Deej, not that Protestant swill! – to Dennis Kiely, and Deej Junior, wherever they may be.
- A nod and sign of the cross upon passing would be appreciated, but not mandatory. Saint himself was a devoted Canadian-french catholic and would likely not appreciate my heretical humor. ↩︎
That is hilarious. Laughing here.
OT: any ideas from Glibs for orgs to support? Idiot company is giving me their money to give away (to entice me to donate some of my own money in their name).
Have three slots and thinking IJ, Hillsdale College, and one more.
I always do the IJ for my forced voluntary company giving. Hopefully some others give some suggestions.
That’s what I’ve done too, but it’s three this time so I get to share the love.
I’m thinking FAIR would be great, given HR’s dei pushing.
I’m partial to Child’s Play (yes the guys behind PA and it have gone annoying progressive, but this is for kids in hospitals, and you can cut out the middleman). If you want to stay with political organizations, there’s always FIRE.
Oh, that’s the one I was thinking of, somehow ended up with FAIR. Too many acronym orgs.
Isn’t Univ. of Austin (Hillsdale of Texas) up and running?
Thanks everyone! I misread it and could split by dollar amount. FIRE wasn’t on the list of charities
UATX, IJ, Childs Play, FAIR, and the state gun advocacy’s educational foundation. FU HR.
Another great story
Yes, good story. I like how you explain the acronyms and slang, and great descriptions of the life you lived (which I imagine is still going on in those units).
The best part of the incident is everyone walked away.
Shit, that is the only good part. The rest is pretty fucked up.
“I am a stranger to my own child.”
When I came back from VN the first time son was about 5.5, daughter about 2. Son hung behind his mother, while he recognized me he was a little unsure. Daughter didn’t care, she was too absorbed in what ever she was doing. It didn’t take long, an hour or two, and they were behaving like normal kids. Too many times like that.
Then they grow up, as we all did, and we’re lucky to see them a few days a year, same as us with our own parents. I didn’t see my dad for 4 years one stretch. My son was 4 years old before he met his Grandpa, then they were inseparable for a few days.
“After “the crash” – as I like to think of it –”
I love it’s “the crash” for you, too. For me, Sept 22, 2019 is The Incident. There are many incidents throughout the day and onward, but that one is The Incident. There ain’t no confusin’ that one for any other. I’m glad my family recognizes it as such.
(As for “the felony of mishaps,” consider the phrase stolen. Also a solid band name.)
Obviously, it’s impossible for me to imagine your own kids not recognizing you, with yours tipping a toe across the Not Knowing Who You Are line. I’m curious how you keep the drive to continue in the field you’re in. It could be love of the job or its purpose, but for (not) everyone to stay with it when the rug gets sharply tugged at.
I’m knowingly ignorant of many things in life, but I crank it up to ‘purposefully” to not have to go through such. I love kids but I’m thrilled not to have ‘em. It started with teaching kids; I spend all day with ‘em, why the hell would I want to *go home* to them?! I still have no inner desire to have kids, especially with 11, 9 and 4yo nephews nearby. (The Youngest mirrors my character. The Oldest has been looking at me differently recently, in a profoundly Cool Uncle sort of way. (The Middle is a mystery to ‘em all.))
The Gunrunners and your life are intense. Diving in further now. I love these stories/pieces.
The Incident.
This is a great story, and well told.
Sort of on topic, I would not have believed a backflip would be possible in a helicopter but apparently even YouTube goofballs can pull it off.
https://youtu.be/dGxvc-u3Xlw?si=nu5NKz87MmDzZrZe
“In some ways, all of Life’s tragedies can be viewed as Comedy through the right lens.”
Hear, hear It’s the safest, perhaps most productive, way to deal with Life’s curve balls. They’re gonna happen, one way or another. Worry and fear certainly don’t ‘help.’ Ya can be safe and proactive without adding a dour note.
I’m quite cheerful to be persistently chipper.
Titty Tuesday After Dark.
https://archive.is/LAPRx/87d52beac4438a163e51a8e44583a1e3d74e610d.webp
NSFW.
https://archive.is/9hj28/c7bda036942459f03dd36789636827aa8c6f70ea.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/RZhJk/be0cfc00550ac2e09512fe5aace4f478bec30820.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/aCH8b/8dfa45c0a42fb8e7c5747a7add97b43717149853.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/gKcoI/ae43f7fce3311aa621e3ca72369d60ddf2211350.jpg
NSFW.
#3
Nice gallery.
I’ve loved this series, Ozzy – thanks for sharing!
Hear hear! I am enjoying reading about it as well.
DeSantis bumping Hegseth- another Donny fuckup or swamp trying to control the narrative?
I’m not chasing that laser pointer.
Citizen free press has two headlines within sight of each other: one saying that Hegseth will be confirmed, and the one that says DeSantis will replace him
Given this “leak” I’d say yes. They want a reaction.
https://www.wsj.com/politics/policy/trump-mulls-replacing-pete-hegseth-with-florida-gov-ron-desantis-8f682ad2?st=3Qjeqk&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink
Happy hump day, y’all.
🐪☀️🥓☕
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=FljNILAozts
🎶🎶
https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/missing-pennsylvania-grandmother-likely-fell-into-sinkhole-while-searching-for-her-cat-police-say/ar-AA1vevjF
Yikes.
Yeesh, what a way to go…looking for your cat one second and swallowed up by the earth the next.
I listened to a Mr. Ballen story last night about a guy show ent to the Austrian Alps to learn how to snowboard. It was on a glacier, which had crevasses, and he fell into a shallow one and broke his leg, and couldn’t move. The guy running the machine that chopped up the glacier ice into “snow” didn’t see the snowboarder, and ran over him, chopping him into bits. He took the body parts and threw them into a deeper crevasse, and cover it over with ice.
The body was found fourteen years later.
“Who went”, not “show ent”.
Morning.
Good morning, U, Stinky, and Sean! (And maybe GL if you’re still awake??)
Morning.
Today has been a cavalcade of little annoyances heaping upon each other to the point where it’s starting to cause some real stress.
They closed yet another bridge because someone was so disrespectful as to catch a building on fire close to the far end. (Not sure if arson or accident)
Most of my normal breakfast stuff was sold out, so I had to scrounge alternatives when already feeling behind schedule.
I woke up slightly late to 18 degrees and a frosty car that delayed my departure (though not as much as the closed bridges are delaying my commute)
The music at the grocery store is now stuck in my head.
I couldn’t find the remote to my fan, so turning it off to hear nuances when sound editing meant getting to it.
And then there was the dream where I kept turning up dead mice around the house (nine in all). Thankfully that was just a dream, but it was still stressful.
What a lousy way to start the day! I hope the worst is over and it’s smooth sailing from here.
🤞
How goes it with you?
So far, so good…but I haven’t left for work yet. I’m definitely getting into the most stressful time of year for my job – lots to do both before and after year-end. I’ve started apologizing in advance to my coworkers, warning them that I could get…testy.
What about TT and the cats?
TT’s plugging along. He’s playing what he’s referring to as his last gig tonight at a friend’s brother’s little microbrewery down near Cincy. Says he’s just not up to the grunt work involved, and he’s not satisfied with his playing.
The cats are doing OK, though we start hearing complaints if we don’t give them their daily “lickable goo” treat by early evening. Guess we’ll have to give them that before we leave tonight, lest we be attacked upon our return.
Buncha feline addicts you’ve got.
😏😸🐱👤
And while I get not being up to the grunt work of setting up, tearing down, and hauling the band gear, I’m sorry to hear he doesn’t think he can play anymore 🙁
Cincinnati had a recent issue with a bridge and a fire, too.
Damn un-handy since the damage closed the southbound lanes of I-471, impacting a few hundred thousand vehicles daily. Not to mention trucking and commerce.
https://www.wcpo.com/news/local-news/hamilton-county/cincinnati/councilman-cincinnati-fire-department-asked-council-not-to-speculate-on-big-mac-bridge-fire-cause
This is a two lane bridge whose daily traffic load is probably only in the hundreds of vehicles, but it does happen to be on my commute.
“US Won’t ‘Cry’ About The Pressure Syria Is Facing From Al-Qaeda-Linked Fighters: Sullivan”
https://www.zerohedge.com/geopolitical/sullivan-says-us-wont-cry-about-pressure-syria-facing-al-qaeda-linked-fighters
So now we’re publicly happy to get into bed with headchoppers (been doing it behind closed doors for quite a while)? Man, we suck.
If they were “falling” out of windows, however….
Hey, so the Russians have shoddy window manufacturing standards…what you gonna do?
It’s a bit nuanced.
https://www.wsj.com/world/middle-east/who-is-syrian-rebel-leader-hts-jawlani-9b157eff?st=tPr4tx&reflink=desktopwebshare_permalink
But he is no saint.
I have no idea WTF is going on in Syria or why I should care. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Nice pics this week. With INSURV, I’ve now hit nearly every ship in the San Antonio class. Only one from Whidbey Island though and that was a shitshow. Done most of the big deck amphibs too – not bad for 3 years.
suh’ fam
whats goody