PAYBACK AIR FORCE STYLE–PART 1, by Major Art Smukler, author & psychiatrist

Last night, I remembered why I’m a psychiatrist and not a jet jockey.

During the Viet Nam War, I was stationed at Forbes Air Force Base in Topeka, Kansas – the newly minted chief of the psychiatric outpatient unit. Major Smukler had a nice ring to it. Right?

 I figured that if I was going to treat pilots, navigators, and Air Force personnel, I should know what it was like to go up in a C-130 Hercules, the mainstay of a TAC base ( tactical air command). When I made the request, Colonel Hutchins, the hospital chief, gave me a funny look, but said that he’d take care of it.

The C-130 primarily performed the tactical portion of the airlift mission. It could operate from rough dirt strips, and was the prime transport for airdropping troops and equipment into hostile areas. It could accommodate a wide variety of oversized cargo including helicopters, armored vehicles, and could airdrop loads up to 42,000 pounds.

The morning of my scheduled flight, I met Captain Danny Daniels at the airfield. Short blond hair, aviator glasses, khaki flight jacket, nothing-can-faze-me look, all screamed hotshot jet-jockey. I didn’t think it was a good idea to remind him that this was a cargo plane, not a screaming jet, and that maybe he should tone it down a bit. 

Capt. Daniels, a copilot, a navigator, and I, climbed up the steep stairs to the cockpit, an area maybe 8 feet by 10 feet. The pilot and copilot sat in front, the navigator off to the right. I was strapped in about 5 feet behind the pilot and copilot. We all wore helmets with earphones and mouthpieces.

When Capt. Daniels fired up the four engines, the plane vibrated and shook, and made hearing almost impossible. The thought struck me that I treated drug addicts, and I didn’t use drugs, schizophrenics and I never hallucinated, so why did I think that I needed to go up in this freaking plane to treat pilots?

The engine noise got louder. The vibrations increased. We rolled forward. Made some turns. Then the engines screamed bloody hell. The cockpit vibrated like it was being ripped apart and we rocketed down the runway. Minutes later we were up in the air. The noise was less and the vibrations not as harsh, but these planes had absolutely no creature comforts. For the first time I truly understood that I was flying in a warplane, a plane built solely to kill our enemies. Deciding to go up in this plane was a big mistake!

Sometime later, Capt. Daniels yelled into his mouthpiece, “So doc, what do you think?”

“Amazing!” I yelled back. “I read that you can drop 42,000 pounds of equipment.” Might as well pretend that I’m having a great time.

“Yes, we can. Plus, this big boy is very maneuverable.” He turned or steered or did whatever so the plane banked sharply to the left.

“Wow,” I said.

Then Daniels did the same thing to the right.

“I get it,” I yelled. “Very maneuverable.”

Then he did it again – right, left, up, down – and repeated it.

“I got it, captain!” I yelled, starting to feel airsick. 

He wouldn’t stop! “Cut it out, captain!” I yelled. “I get the picture. Left. Right. Up. Down. Very maneuverable. Please stop!”

“You need to get the full picture of what it’s like up here,” he said, laughing.

“You’re not funny!”

“Really? My girlfriend thinks I’m a riot!” Right. Left. Up. Down.

“Damn it, Daniels! I order you to cut it out.”

“I’m 100% in charge when we’re on board, doc. That’s what being a captain means. You can’t order me to do anything,” he chuckled. So much for me being a major and his superior.

Obviously, attacking Daniels only made him more stubborn and thrill seeking, like a belligerent two-year-old.

“So, doc, what do you think?”

I think you’re a piece of shit, I thought, and said nothing.

“Did you hear me, doc?”

I closed my eyes and did what I could to stare straight ahead and survive this. If the three of them could do it without throwing up, I could too.

Sometime later, Daniels leveled out the C-130, and brought us back to the airfield.

When we exited the plane and walked back to the hanger, Daniels said, “Look, I was just fooling around. No hard feelings?” He reached out his hand to shake. I hesitated, shook his hand, turned in the equipment, and went back to my office.

I got a cup of coffee, sat at my gray air-force-issue desk, and thought about what just happened. Daniels gave me a touch of what it was like to be in a C-130 at war. Every one of those men risked his life every time they took one of those war machines to Viet Nam. Not only did they have to put up with extreme discomfort and noise, but they were potentially always under attack. While they delivered troops, artillery or vehicles, the object of the North Vietnamese was to kill them. Blast them out of the sky. These men needed to be cocky and belligerent. Otherwise, they might be too frightened to function. Then what? Then you could count on a catastrophe.

Tune in tomorrow to find out how I became a psychiatric version of Dirty Harry. Well, not exactly, but it still makes me smile.

Happy Reading.  Art

#Airforce, #Vietnamwar, #humor, #airforcepsychiatrist, #mysterynovels