The nose landing gear strut on 3653 was alright and the tail stand which prevented the tanker from sitting on her tail, was well below the red painted line, within bounds for a heavily loaded tanker.
I don't get it. Rick stood on the ground under the crew entry door and pushed the door partially closed. The door swung back fully opened as soon as he let go of it. That damn door feels heavy. How can the entry door feel heavy? It's a hollow, aluminum skinned door.
Rick moved the door back and forth several times as he thought about it. In the beam of his flashlight he studied the interior side of the door. In particular the access panel that allowed access to the latch locking mechanism and hinges.
The paint on the access panel's screws look like they've been out recently. I'll swear that they hadn't been taken out since the door was repainted.
After going up into the tanker to get some tools, Rick removed the access panel screws. Carefully he pulled the panel free from the door.
A flight jacket?
Wrapped in the flight jacket and stuck in the jacket's sleeves, Rick counted 8 bottles of rum from the Guam duty free store.
He didn't want to remove the jacket and bottles from their hiding place in the door, but he did want to know for sure whose jacket it was. Carefully he lifted the jacket up so he could roll it enough to see the name tag sewed onto the left breast.
C.D. BARNES was on the embroidered name tag.
"SHIT!" Never would I have thought he was that smart, or stupid enough to try to do this.
As he was replacing everything as he had found them, Rick thought about what to do.
No way can I say anything now. If I turn him in, Customs could hold the aircraft and the whole crew here or at Hickam AFB until they sort out everything. The F4 crews will have to wait for another tanker and crew to get them home. A week or more sitting around? No way is that fair.
Try to get back to Fairchild and let customs and the air police take care of him then?
May work. Chances are that I can open and close the door and keep the chances of anybody figuring something is wrong to a minimum. If I have to, I can tell the boomer. Jeff won't say anything if I explain it all to him. Only if I have to.
Satisfied that he could carry it off, Rick finished closing up the access panel and put his tools away.
Several times when he had a chance to reminisce in his mind about his stay on Okinawa, Rick thought about a very pretty, but very married woman who didn't even give him much more than the couple of cups of coffee and doughnuts that he had to pay for. He thought about her shy smile and being a young male, her trim body, firm butt and thighs he had watched when she walked away from him.
She was who he was thinking about while he was standing in a snack bar phone booth just off of the Castle AFB flightline. He only had a few minutes to make the call and grab something to eat before returning to his tanker for engine start.
"Ron? Ron, this is Rick Davis, 3653." He had finally found Ron Brian a master sergeant on Fairchild who was technically his boss and the flightline supervisor for all the tankers on Fairchild.
As quickly as he could. With as few words as he could manage, Rick told Brian what had happened and what Rick wanted to happen. To his surprise, Brian didn't argue or try to change anything that Rick wanted to happen, but did offer a suggestion.
"Okay, Rick. I'll have the air police on the ramp and we'll get the customs routine started as quick as we can. Are you thinking that Barnes won't go after the rum until after everybody leaves the aircraft and gets off the ramp?"
"I'm sure, Ron. He put them in the door after I went to bed and the tanker ramp was basically deserted except for a couple technicians who could have cared less if somebody was taking a door apart."
"I'm thinking that it might expedite the matter if we put 3653 into a nose dock. It will be dark and out of sight and may encourage him to try for the rum sooner. I'll check with the air police and get their feelings about it. Okay?"
"Sure. Whatever will work the best for you and the cops."
"Are you going to tell the aircraft commander?" Ron Brian asked.
"Yeah, about the time we hit the California/Oregon border. He can decide who else to tell."
"Any chance Barnes will find out?"
"No way. He hasn't come into the cockpit since the A/C told him to go back in the cargo compartment for takeoff from Fairchild. Guess it pissed him off. Hurt his inflated ego. I have the feeling that the flight crew doesn't like him."
"See ya when you get here. I got you covered on this end so don't sweat it. Truth be known, I've wanted to get rid of him since I took over the line."
"Hey Chief, command post said that maintenance is going to put us in a nose dock before we can deplane. You know anything about that?" The A/C asked over the intercom.
"I think they decided to give her a phase inspection a bit ahead of time. I'm due a few days off, but when they finish up with the inspection, they can turn me around for another trip to Kadena." Rick answered over the intercom for everybody's information before he leaned over the back of the pilot's seat and released his intercom mike button before speaking again.
"I think this has to do with our door problem, Sir. They think that it will expedite the whole situation if you know what I mean."
"Gotcha, Rick. That makes sense.
That next Kadena trip A/C is going to be Captain Autwater. Has he flown your tanker yet?"
"Not since I came aboard."
"You'll like him and his crew. It will be a fun TDY."
He could hear the insistent phone though he preferred to ignore it and stay asleep. Easing one eye open Rick had to search for the clock. 9 o'clock! "Shit. It was after 0200 before I got to bed." Rick was talking to himself.
The phone refused to stop ringing so he gave up and raised the hand-piece to his ear.
"This better be good."
"Thought that you'd like to know that you're going to need a new assistant crew chief. You can have your pick when you come back to work and get 3653 out of phase."
"Gee, thanks Ron. How did it go? Did you stick around for the conclusion?"
"No, I left after I dropped you at your car. I had to work this morning remember? I did talk to the cops and the squadron commander just a few minutes ago.
Barnes tried to blame you. Said it was your rum and you must have stolen his flight jacket. The APs asked how come his fingerprints were all over the bottles. That did it. He lost it and said that he had a drinking problem and wanted help."
Boy, he sure knows how to work the system. Has he got in trouble before? Or after he enlisted?"
The cops are still checking his background. They're hinting at a court martial."
"Had they actually matched his prints to the ones on the bottles?" Rick asked
"Not as far as I know. Didn't have time.
The squadron commander said to tell you thanks and will have a more formal thanks later. Also said to give you a long weekend. You don't have to come to work until Tuesday morning. By that time 3653 should be out of phase and all the discrepancies cleared."
"What's the catch, Ron?'
"You're scheduled for an abbreviated Young Tiger on August 16th, be only for 14 days plus travel to Kadena and back to CONUS. The best news is that they are guaranteeing you Kadena instead of Utapao, Thailand.
Anyway, I'll fill you in more next week. Go back to sleep."
"Thanks, Ron. I'll see ya Tuesday."
SIX
The high pitched whine of the hydraulic motors deep within the tanker's belly startled him out of his reverie. The mechanical sounds brought Rick back to the real world of 3653's cargo compartment. He was lethargic from the long flight and for the last couple of hours he had been drowsing in a temporary suspension of time on one of the tanker's bunks.
The KC135's flaps were still forcing their way down into the slipstreams below the wings when another hydraulic pump sta
rted up. The aircraft shuddered in protest as the main landing gears slammed into place with a series of loud clunks. Rick jumped off the bunk and made his way forward to the cockpit.
"Must be nice to be a crew chief so you can sleep while the rest of us work so hard driving you across the big pond." The navigator kidded Rick. With a sleepy smile the crew chief slipped into the IP's seat with a cup of cool and stale coffee. It was the left over from the coffee the crew had gotten from the inflight kitchen in Utapao, Thailand about four hours ago.
The aircraft banked into a shallow left turn and started to descend with a sudden loss of engine noise. It was several seconds before Rick realized that the pilot had just reduced the power on all four engines. He looked out through the tanker's windshield then turned towards the pilot's side window. Off the left wing tip he could see twinkling city lights and a scattering of yellowish headlights threading their way along a north-south highway. He looked forward, ahead of the leading edge of the wing and could pick out Okinawa's Highway #1 and the line of northbound headlights which merged with and disappeared amongst the distinctive lineup of runway approach lights.
The pilot rolled the tanker's wings level and continued their descent. Over the black radome on the tanker's nose Rick made out the jagged line of green and white breakers with their glowing phosphorescent marking the collision of the East China Sea with Okinawa's ancient coral reef.
Kadena's runway 5’s approach lights flashed under the tanker's belly and they landed with a thump and the quick, but repeated screeching of tires on dry concrete as first the right landing gear touched down followed in a fraction of a second by the left set of tires. The sudden loss of power from the jet engines, both pilots stomping on the brakes and full up spoilers slowed the aircraft and sucked Rick forward against his seat harness.
Rick and his new assistant crew chief, Sgt. Don Naylor, had been on the go since they had departed Fairchild on the 16th of August. There were no RONs on this trip. Their first stop had been at Castle AFB to refuel and pickup several geese, (slang for passengers,) destined for different bases in Southeast Asia.
Next stop was Hickam AFB. Again it was a quick turn around. Refuel, check fluid levels, drop some geese, pickup some new ones and change flight crews. The crew chiefs managed to grab some sleep on the tanker's bunks between stops and ordered inflight frozen meals on the bases where they were available otherwise they ate inflight box lunches. A dry sandwich with some meat of unknown origin and a slice of dry cheese, a couple of cookies usually made of some strange fibrous flour. Maybe an apple and/or small ,(read 'tiny') can of fruit juice. and a carton of week old milk which was warm when it came from the inflight kitchen. At Hickam the new flight crew picked up hamburgers and fries from the snack bar for the crew chiefs along with two of the largest sized Cokes the snack bar had.
Going into Guam the pilot told Rick that there was going to be about a six hour delay to wait for the new crew to fulfill their down time. The A/C had arranged for the Anderson AFB transit tanker ground crew to refuel 3653 so that Rick and Don could go to the NCO club for a real meal and maybe a beer.
After a hurried post flight/preflight rolled into one, the crew chiefs crawled into the two tanker bunks to sack out and grabbed some sleep while waiting for the fresh flight crew.
It was pushing midnight when they landed at Utapao RTNAB and delivered their geese. The tanker flight chief took Rick and Don to the NCO Club for a late midnight meal while the UT transit tanker ground crew refueled 3653 for them.
You'll be going to Kadena as soon as they finish the refuel. You're our round robin flight for the day. You left Guam, came here, will go to Kadena to stay.
Another tanker will go to Guam from Kadena this afternoon, then come here and back to Kadena. You'll probably fly a round robin about once or twice more while you're here.
When the flight chief dropped them off at their tanker the new flight crew had already arrived and was starting their preflight. As would happen many times in the world of SAC they were amongst friends. The flight crew was from Fairchild and Rick had flown with them out of their home base.
"Where did you guys go. To Sattahip for a 'short time', Chief?" The pilot hollered from where he sat in his cockpit seat. "I'll be down in a second and we can do our walk around."
"Okay Captain. And no, we weren't in Sattahip. They have drive up window service here, Sir. No need to go downtown at UT anymore. Didn't the boomer clue you in to that? He's been here before and should be up on the finer social convenient aspects of the Sattahip bar girls."
"He's shaking his head no, Rick. Says to tell you that you're the same wise ass that was at Fairchild and payback is hell.
I'll be down in a sec."
When Rick climbed aboard 3653 after engine start he realized that the cargo compartment was almost full of geese. Looking aft through the cockpit door he waited for the boom operator to enter the cockpit.
"We have 86 passengers, Rick, 8 mail bags stowed aft towards the boom pod. And those two pallets just aft of the cargo door."
"What are they Boom?"
"Spare tanker parts for Kadena the manifest says. They came in on a C141 earlier. I guess the 141 forgot to stop at Kadena so we ended up taking them."
"You managed to end up here at Kadena instead of UT. How did you manage that?" Were the first words out of MSgt. Bob Kruse's mouth when Rick stepped onto the tarmac at Kadena AFB.
"Actually I had pull from some of Kadena's NCOs."
The two friends gave each other a quick hug.
"This is Don Naylor, my new right hand man and back up. I found him wandering around the flightline at Fairchild so I kidnapped him." Rick introduced his new assistant to Kruse.
"Don, if you have any problems getting along with Sgt. Davis let me know. I know all of his secrets and hang ups."
Without any further comment, Kruse picked up an AWOL bag and parachute bag from the pile of gear the two crew chiefs had taken off their tanker, and started for his truck.
"Come on. I'll take you to the transit barracks. Since you'll be here for at least 14 days TDY, you don't get to spend it in the luxury of the VBOQ."
"What happened after we left that gave us a chance at such a short TDY here, Bob?
"Somebody in plans and scheduling screwed up to put it bluntly. They had 3653, listed as a Young Tiger on a 120 day TDY. When as we know, you were only here on hold for the F4s coming out of Thailand. So they ended up being a tanker short. They couldn't get an additional tanker for the full 120 days until after 1 September, but 3653 was available until the 3rd or 4th of September.
So here you are."
After they pulled up in front of the transit barracks Kruse picked up a manilla folder from the pickup's seat. Opened it and carefully keeping the contents from Rick's view, extracted several sheets of mimeographed papers.
"Thought that you might be interested in this message from Fairchild that came for you yesterday." He handed Rick the stapled together sheets with a big smile.
Rick skimmed the contents of the top sheet. "Holy shit! Are these for real, Bob?"
"Congratulations Staff Sergeant. Not bad, Staff in just over four years."
"So when are we on the schedule, Bob?" Rick asked as MSgt. Kruse was starting down the barracks stairs after helping the crew chiefs carry flight gear to their room.
"Monday, the 21st. Be your first combat mission. You'll be flying a Combat Apple Patrol (CAP) mission off of the coast of Vietnam. So enjoy your day off tomorrow and meet me in the NCO club for dinner after you come back from Naha. About 1930 hours or so."
"Who said anything about Naha?"
"I just think that it's a given. You seem to have been drawn in that direction on your last trip to the island."
SEVEN
Don Naylor had passed on the opportunity of going to Naha with Rick. He had met up with a couple of people he had known before. The male of the pair had a car, an old 1952 Olds
, but nonetheless transportation. The three of them were going to spend the day exploring the island's beaches. So Rick was on his own.
After a leisurely brunch at the NCO club, Rick had grabbed a pink sukoshi cab at the Highway #1 gate and soon found himself window shopping on Kokusai Dori. He had wandered up one side of the street and down the other wandering through several small stores and the huge Ryubo Department Store. He ended up buying two more short sleeved shirts with Hawaiian-like floral patterns he had seen many Okinawan men wearing and a set of Panasonic headphones for his stereo. He had a small apartment in Medical Lake, a small town outside of Fairchild AFB, and often worried that his stereo was too loud and would bother his neighbors. Rick hesitated on the sidewalk before realizing that he was under the Kokusai Coffee House sign. Then as Bob Kruse had said, he felt drawn to the narrow set of stairs.
"Konnichi wa. How are you today Rick-san?" She asked him.
"I'm good, thank you."
"The table in the back? Dozo, this way. You have been shopping, neh?"
Rick followed Tomi and as his eyes grew more accustom to the coffee house lighting he realized that Bob Kruse was right. Tomi was pregnant.
I haven't been here for about 5 or 6 weeks. Of course she would be starting to show. Does she really remember me?
He realized what she asked him as they approached the table. "Yeah, I went to Reeobo store and bought a couple of shirts. Mine are all too heavy for Okinawa's warm weather."
Tomi smiled, then giggled quietly. "I'm sorry. I do not mean to embarrass you, but I think that you mean the Ryubo Department store, neh?"
Tomi stood next to his table seemingly not in a hurry to take his order or leave.
"You are alone today." She said it as a statement.
"It was a month and a half ago when you were here. You went stateside?"
"You really remember me?
"Hai. Oh, yes. You came with your older tomodachi." Tomi laid her arms across her barely perceptible baby belly as pregnant women do, before speaking again. "My baby's father used to kid me and said that I am cursed with a memory for people. I can never forget a face."