A City with a View

             As I saw Columbus Air Force Base disappear in my rear-view mirror all I could think of was which type of hand towel holder I would put in my new bathroom. Not that I consider Columbus a zit on the history book of my life. I was fortunate enough to meet amazing people and form incredible relationships in just a year and a half that will have a lasting and positive impact on the rest of my life. I cannot express how thankful I am for those friendships and I look forward to fostering them as time goes on. It's just that Columbus is a zit. Flat and swampy. I love hiking, and I knew of trails in Columbus. But the visuals of tree, swamp, tree, tree, swamp and tree can discourage even the heartiest of outdoors-men. We often drove 45 minutes to Starkville to have fun. Stark-ville.

(STARK:
a : barren, desolate

b (1) : having few or no ornaments : bare <a stark white room> (2) : harsh, blunt <the stark realities of death>)

Whoever named the town was brutally honest. 

           Little Rock is a breath of fresh air. There's more than one main road and they have multiple Targets and Starbucks - neither of which do I adore by any means (Target is too red and I only drink coffee on the occasional weekend), but they are signs of even greater things. My apartment sits next to the Arkansas River and on a road that's part of the River Trail that makes a 15 mile loop. The trail stays next to the river throughout the loop, but on the north side there are some single track dirt trails that run along the bluffs that overlook the river and downtown Little Rock. I found the trails on accident when I went running earlier in the week. They make running enjoyable:

                 Of course being in Little Rock means I've started doing something again. Classes for the C-130H program began last Tuesday. The first test is this Tuesday. They waste no time in turning on the firehose of information. Which means we got these,

along with CDs of extra information and study guides. But we also got some new fun stuff like a heavy duty backpack, flashlight and safety belt (for being safe).

                 Since we all came from SUPT (Specialized Undergraduate Pilot Training) this schoolhouse can be considered a graduate program. The benefit is that you are no longer treated as a newb student pilot (sadly it feels like I brain dumped everything from SUPT so that might still be a regretfully accurate title). There's no hand-holding through the program so you don't get babied as much. Unfortunately that means there is no hand-holding in the program so you don't get babied as much. Through SUPT we were told what we needed to know, how to study to know it and given constant tests and quizzes and embarrassingly public shotgun questions to ensure we were learning. It entails zero fun and little free time. Here they only tell us what we are responsible for knowing and the learning is left completely up to us. It's freeing but a little intimidating at the same time.

                   The first day the instructor jumped right into painfully detailed information about the engine and propellers. Things like Temperature Datum Control Valves, an assortment of fly-weights, pistons, springs, back-up systems, back-up system back-ups and Turbine Inlet Temperature (which, given the Air Force's proclivity for acronyms, offers an endless supply of jokes and cautious laughter (it is a PC Air Force after all (but all of our instructors are crusty old retired dudes so they don't care))). 

                Overall, it seems a little more laid back than SUPT but with an extra dose of responsibility. There's no formal release here so, once academics are over, there won't be any mandatory 12 hour days. Not to say there won't be long days. To save money (and probably lives) most of our training is accomplished in simulators. We become fully qualified C-130 pilots before we ever touch the airplane. There are only 4-5 simulator machines, though, and with multiple classes vying for those sims all the time that means they run 24 hours a day. Most sims require a 3 hour pre-brief followed by a 3 hour sim and topped with a 1 hour debrief. That means your show time for a sim could be 9 pm and you wouldn't be headed home until 4 in the morning. It's dastardly but necessary.

                 If you're reading this then pray for dedication to things that matter. Obviously I am here to learn how to fly the 130 and I want to do that well - better than I did at UPT. But I'm only here 6 months and it would be too easy to shove aside things that matter always, regardless of where you are, in the name of, "I've only got six months to learn this stuff so I can sacrifice anything else for that long." Mostly that's relationships, whether with people or with the Lord. "Whoever is faithful in very little is also faithful in much." This is mostly related within the context of talents and material possessions but I think it can also relate to how we use our time. If we are dedicated to fostering friendships when we are busy then how much more will we be able to foster those same relationships and others when we have more time? Not sure how to end this poetically so I'll just stop.

What's to talk about?

And then a year passed. Not much happened. And right now I'm stuck in the less enjoyable Air Force. It's not the Real Air Force, or so I'm told. I often hear rumors of The Real Air Force and how where ever I am at the moment is not it ("Ya this place is frustrating but don't worry. It isn't the REAL Air Force"). Some friends of mine have gone to places they heard was the Real Thing only to find that, alas, it was actually somewhere else. Maybe it's mobile. I hope I get there one day because it sounds rather like heaven. Everyone loves their job all the time and things are much, much simpler. Things like out-processing. Which is all I'm doing right now.

I'm supposed to start C-130 training in Little Rock on January 22nd. I'm supposed to PCS to Cheyenne in August. I have the orders to go to one of those places. Apparently, if this were the Real Air Force, I'd have the orders in hand which made more since chronologically. Alas, this is not the Real Air Force. Out-processing from a base involves taking a checklist around to a variety of offices to get stuff signed and retrieve paper work. Some of these offices require orders. Some of these offices won't let you out-process until you are 3-5 (or fewer) days away from your final out-processing date (the day you leave the base). The only way you know you're final out-processing date is by looking at your orders. Here in-lies the rub.

I was, at first, going into these offices and when they asked for my out-processing date I'd say that I didn't know because I didn't have my orders but that I was sure it was soon because my class starts in a couple of weeks. This got me no where. But I'm a quick learner - these instances. Now, when asked the same question, I reply confidently with a satisfactory date (after some quick mental math). It might be lying but it could also be the truth. And that's been 2013 so far. Also I moved a sleeper sofa out of my house onto a moving truck all by myself. As for 2012...

I feel somewhat guilty for not conveying what this past year has been like so, even though it will be impossible to report everything, I'll give it a go. Firstly, I distinctly remember 2012 as being a year in which I threw-up considerably less than 2011:

This past year has been the busiest and most trying year of my life. All the way through college I became accustomed to succeeding well at anything I applied myself to do. Pilot training, however, has been a great lesson in humility for me. A good lesson but a hard lesson. Overall it felt like I was running a hurdle race and knocking every hurdle down on the way to the finish. It's not how anyone dreams of racing. I finished, but it wasn't pretty. In fact at times it was Ugly vomited into sick bags (literally; and lots of it).

Like I said, though, it was a good lesson. I had to separate myself from my pride because really I had no achievements of my own to stand on. I've been able to hide past failures but these were very public and embarrassing. I couldn't hide from them. Those around me were encouraging but sometimes that made it worse. I dreamed of being lauded for my excellent skills, not of being patted on the back and told, "it happens to everyone. Shake it off and don't worry about it." It was quite frustrating. While coming up short I can't ever remember thinking, "well God's just trying to teach me something," but looking back it's always obvious He was.

It's always good to be brought low. It makes you realize that you always have been low, you just thought you were a big deal. It's not as if God thinks, "ooh, well this guy's getting way too good at life. Time to chop his legs out from under him before he gets any better." It's more of God drawing the curtain back from our eyes, revealing how inadequate and self-insufficient we are and always have been. And in addition to that God often keeps us from our selfish desires in order to give us what we really want. It would be a long, tedious explanation if I tried to go into details into the selection process the Air Force has for pilots (it actually wouldn't be that bad; I just don't want to do it), but if pilot training went how I pictured it (leaping gazelle-like over every hurdle and finishing in first place, all the while holding a gorgeous girl in one arm and an unspilt glass of scotch in the other) I would have ended up somewhere I didn't want to go, flying an airplane I really did not want to fly. But since I completed the race the way God desired I'm heading someplace I really want to go and will be flying an aircraft I am very excited about. That's the big picture of this past year. The details are fuzzy, though. 

Pilots are professionals. Professionals at finding something to complain about, and I could go on and on if I wanted (unless, of course, I was in the Real Air Force). But we really are incredibly fortunate. Just in the past 1 1/2 years I've been allowed to do things only a select few get to do in their lifetime - and get paid to do it. The risk, the pain and the vomit were definitely worth it (the vomiting, though, at the time, was not worth it). Back in Febuaryish of 2012 my wingman (as in the an actual wingman, not as in the guy who helps you pick up lady-friends at the bar) and I finished our required maneuvers quickly during a daily ride in T6 formation training. There were towering pillars of clouds in our practice area and we had 15 minutes left before we needed to head back to base. Our IPs took control and started playing chase in and out and around the pillars. Yankin-and-bankin and splitting the uprights. I was having so much fun I couldn't stop laughing. No way in the world I was getting paid to do that. Every retired Air Force or Navy pilot I talk to always, always tells me they would give up everything they have just to go back to the beginning where I am. The beginning where you know so little and only have everything to learn. I didn't understand that when I was throwing up and coming up short. But it's the days you can't stop laughing that you remember. It's those days that make them want to come back. I'll probably be there one day. For now, though, I'm grateful I don't keep a sick sack in my pocket all the time - just in case.

Weather and Cheques

And then I was halfway through. Can't believe October was three months ago and can't believe how much I didn't know then. My present self would impress my past self. And it's becoming more and more fun. If I get to fly tomorrow then there's a good chance I might fly two area solo rides Sunday (flying on the weekends to catch up on lost time). Which means I'll be able to do whatever I want within a 5 mile radius, 6,000 foot area. Probably just straight and level for a long while before I get up the gumption to do something crazy, like a 30 deg turn. But seriously it should be fun.

We're not as far along as was planned. There have been a lot of weather days that prevented any flight from taking off. It doesn't have to be storming or raining for the weather conditions to ground us. Sometimes the cloud deck is simply too low. Lots of low clouds in the winter. If there were no weather days from the first day I flew a T-6 until now I would probably be 3/4 of the way done with the syllabus. Now, though, I'm marginally halfway through. It's not only our flight that's behind either. Yesterday, both T-6 training squadrons were told to expect weekend flights every week until further notice. That means 6 day work weeks from here on out until we are able to catch up. A lot of students are being dropped back a class in order for the rest to be able to finish T-6s on time.

Our class is finally almost to the end of Contact rides, which means we can begin instrument and formation rides. This will help us catch back up since those type of sorties don't need the perfect weather contact rides do. The downside to the new sorties is all the new information we become responsible for, and that has become painfully evident in our weekly Emergency Procedure Quizzes. A couple of weeks ago we were at the point that we no longer needed to study for EPQs because all of the quizzable information had become so familiar. With new information comes new questions. And the new information consists of hundreds and hundreds of pages. EPQ questions can be anything from asking what a number is to filling in the blank from a seemingly random one-liner from one of the documents. 85% is failing. We've been failing. Oh well.

On a happier note, I moved into a house with a couple of other guys. In the dorms I forgot how awesome it was to not be able to see the TV from any where in the room (a point I enjoyed at first). Now I'm enjoying stretching my arms out and not touching two walls or being in the bedroom and the kitchen at the same time. It's a four bedroom house with two large bedrooms and two small (large closets) bedrooms. We decided the other two guys could have the big rooms and I got the two small rooms. So now I have a library/study. I've always wanted a study, though I pictured it with more mahogany and leather bound books. Still chill.

On a sad note, I got some cash out of an ATM machine (a game I always win) but drove off without taking my debit card back out. No worries, I cancelled it. But before I realized I no longer had a debit card I used the cash to buy an end table at an antique store (which is why I got the cash). Afterwards I needed to get groceries (mostly bread) and it was then I realized I had no card. I panicked for a few quiet moments in my truck wondering all the ways this might destroy my happiness. After I returned to reality I decided to go back to the bank to see if I could get my card out/back. They were closed (because it was after 5pm). Accepting the worse (that my card would be shredded before I could get it back), I tried to figure out some other way to buy groceries. Also it was pouring outside and I walked through a lake at some point.

Checks. I could write a check. But I couldn't remember the last time I took a checkbook into a store and used it to buy anything. Do stores still take checks? Then I remembered the many times I had been standing in line at the grocery, being in a hurry, frustrated with myself that I had chosen the only line with the check-writing-senior-citizen. Scribble scribble, big number, sign, riiiiip "ching." That's how it should go. Instead you feel like you're watching live art exhibition. I always find myself trying to mentally help them write faster, leaning forward as if the change in pressure will help guide their hands more swiftly across the "sign here" line. I felt like I shouldn't be seen using such an archaic form of legal tender that's usually accompanied with butter pecan ice cream and a Lincoln Town car.

With this fresh in my mind, and my checkbook in hand I proceeded to the base commissary, dreading the judging eyes of the customers in line behind me. Also, I didn't know who to make the check out too. I rushed through the store only grabbing a few things, feeling like if I bought fewer items the embarrassment would be less severe. Not so. As the cashier began ringing up the food I reluctantly drew out my checkbook bracing myself for the eye rolls. The line was already growing. Before all the items were ringed up I thought I might speed up the process by filling out what I could. My name. Check. Date. Close enough. Pause...the "for" line at the bottom. I put "groceries." Seemed appropriate.

The cashier finished so I waited for her to tell me the final price...nothing. I waited a little longer...still nothing, not even a glance. So I looked at the computer and wrote that price down. Nothing was said so apparently that was the wise choice. Then the great dread. Was it, "who do I make the check out to?" or "To whom do I make the check out?" Or maybe she would notice I had no clue and give me a hint. I looked around. Maybe there was a helpful sign like, "all checks should be made out to:_______". I looked around everywhere I could without seeming like I was looking around. No such sign. No such help. The line began to lean in. I felt the pressure. The sweat dripped down my palms, soaking the check and smudging the ink. I can't remember if I asked "to whom" or "who" but I asked something. She cocked her head around, tightened her lips and raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" She didn't actually say that but she looked that. She pointed to the left of where my checkbook was and said, "There's a stamp." I guess it was then she guessed I didn't know how the world worked. She picked up the stamp labeled "FOR CHECKS" and stamped my check and told me to write some other stuff on it I clearly would never had guessed to write. Checkbook in my pocket, groceries in one hand, sweat in the other, I returned home with a greater respect for our senior citizens and a resolve to starve rather than buy anything else until my replacement debit card comes in the mail. Also I forgot the bread.

One Week from the Greatest Amusement Park Ride Ever

It's a Monday and surprisingly my day has been done since before 11am. We had a test this morning and my last simulator before the flight line will most likely be tomorrow. We only have one more subject, weather, and a test for it on Friday until our Dollar ride a week from today. The last 7 weeks actually feels like 7 seven weeks. It hasn't flown by or seemed to drag on either. I guess that means there's been a good balance of stuff to do and time not doing stuff. And we are no longer the freshman class with 13-01 already more than two weeks into their syllabus. Which is beneficial because I finally feel superior (however slightly) to at least someone. I finally know some things someone else doesn't.

Knowing the flight-line starts a week from today is a little nerve wrecking. We've spent most of our time learning how to stay alive in emergencies and uncontrolled flight and very little time learning the finer points of how to fly. Flying with an emergency, though, is in some ways easier than flying normally. If everything's good you have to adhere to all flight standards, altitudes, flight paths, controller directions, radio etiquette, maps, everything. But once you declare an emergency you're allowed to do whatever you want. Even rob a bank. For instance if I say on the radio, "Cujo 25, 5 miles, request straight-in" the controller can say, "negative straight-in" which means I have to go ALL the way around again unless I say, "Cujo 21 declaring an emergency, fire in flight." Sure, that means my plane's on fire but now I can do a straight-in. Saves time and money. The biggest draw to an in-flight emergency in this plane is the potential to eject.

Some would ask, "why?" As much as they say the captain goes down with the ship, I hope this makes it obvious. Makes this lame. They say you can only eject twice before you're physiologically disqualified from ever flying an ejection capable airplane again. Might as well go one-and-done. Besides, you break one airplane, they just give you another.

Living on base has it's perks, especially for early morning shows, but it also has it's drawbacks. One is engine tests late at night, "they keep crankin it on and crankin it off!" The number 1 drawback is when reveille is played at 7am and retreat at 5pm over the PA loudspeakers. If you're on base in the car when either is played you have to stop the vehicle until it's over. If you're walking you have to stop, come to attention and salute. It's really just an inconvenience but after the first two times you find yourself planning out your whole day to avoid the outdoors from 6:58am-7:02am and 4:58pm-5:02pm. Some people even set alarms. You know you're in trouble if you're halfway between the parking lot and a building when you see some people who were previously walking start sprinting into the nearest shelter. You look around and realize you are the only soul outside for as far as the eye can see. No cars, no people, no dogs, nothing; just crickets. Then you hear the ominous crackle over the loudspeaker and you know your day is ruined. Instead of music someone might as well come on and say, "GOTCHA, SUCKA!" And you know you're being watched. If a group is inside the computer lab and someone starts packing their bags to walk outside at 4:59 pm the gentlemanly thing to do would be to caution the individual from exiting the building within the next 5 minutes. But usually everyone watches the him walk outside then rushes to the windows to watch him get caught. And we all laugh. A good day.

Belcher Bench

We are in the middle of the first section of academics, Physiology. This section covers the human body and how it reacts in a flight environment. We've gone over subjects like altitude threats, pressurization, vision, G-forces and spatial disorientation. Some of the stuff we go over we get to demo. Friday we had a night vision demo. It mainly consisted of sitting in a dark room and telling the instructor (who you couldn't see), "No, I have no idea what the image on the screen is," because it looked like this:
.
Or just guessing, "airplane," because that was usually it. Great fun and made everyone sleepy.

Today was much more interactive but had a much less calming affect. Today the instructor demonstrated spatial disorientation (basically motion sickness) by putting us through the barany chair demo.


This is not the actual chair we sat in but it looks just like it. We each took turns sitting in the chair and getting spun. The instructor had different people demonstrate different forms of spatial disorientation, usually by having us put our head somewhere other than erect. I got spun around for a good 20 seconds with my head erect and then was told to put my right ear on my right shoulder. A nanosecond after it felt like I was being thrown out of the chair and that my stomach was no longer anywhere near my body. The same sensation came when my head tilted left, up or down. Horrible, horrible, horrible. Worst thing ever. After the instructor stopped the chair I realized I was sweating almost profusely, felt too much like throwing up and didn't fully recover until two hours later when I was able to lie down in my room for 15 minutes. If one was on the verge of deciding whether to go fighters or cargo this demo would most def solidify the heavies. Everyone else who did that same demo had the same reaction as well and swore a lot so I don't have to feel like a weenie about this. It was reaaallly funny to watch other people do it until it was your turn. After that looking at the chair made your stomach upset.

So far the in-class demonstrations have not impressed me.

Back to Business

Headed home!! The days were long and the weeks flew by. It's impossible to believe I came with zero hours of experience and left without having to repeat a single sortie! Christ was obviously sufficient in my great deficiencies! And it feels great to be done but then I realize that wasn't even the beginning. It was simply the screening process to see if I could even make it to he beginning. Tryouts.

Some things in the next phase will be similar but the greatest difference will be time spent in visual contact with the sun. I now feel like I've always under-appreciated windows. I love windows.

One similar component we will also receive at UPT is the standup emergency procedure. It's the air force's own public humiliation version of the grade school spelling bee. You're stood up in front of the entire flight and given an in-air emergency situation. You must-in great detail (going as far as what your fingers will be doing)-explain how you will bring the airplane from the emergency safely to the ground. If you are in your seat watching this take place the whole thing is very simplistic. But the moment you stand up all cognitive abilities are lost and all you really hope is that the IP realizes your ignorance sooner than later and calls someone else up to take control and relieve you from your stupidity. "It's a cup...with dirt in it. Just give me an F and move on."

I do think IFS has prepared me well for the next phase and I feel like I'm now on a more level playing field with some of the other guys who have prior flight time. As of yesterday I am the proud owner of 17.9 flight hours, 0.4 of which are solo and 0.1 is counted as night flying (the ONLY perk of getting up at 3:25am (please note that while it was a perk it in no way came remotely close to making up for getting up at that unholy hour)).


A year ago I read this from Isaiah, "I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them." This is what the Lord has done for me. This verse has become real to me. I did not know how to get here but I did know it would be hard. And I don't know how to get where I'm going but I know it will also be difficult. But now, after these past few weeks, I know this is what the Lord has for me because I can see clearly how He brought me here. So I can run with confidence into it. Not confidence that I will succeed but confidence that this is what the Lord wants me to do and these are the people the Lord wants me to be with. What great comfort! 


My only fear is that I will forget this when training becomes tough and my focus will drift from God's direction to striving for success. That sounds exhausting just thinking about it. I don't want this to be a year of exhaustion, something I merely endure to see what's next. The people that will be in my class are already complaining about the long hours we'll have and all the stuff we'll have to memorize but I want to be able to enjoy it. Pray for joy for me. Because, honestly, when they make me get up to attend a 4am formal brief (that's night not morning (I'm confident 4am formal briefs come straight from the devil)) it will take a heavenly intervention to keep me from misery.

Finally, getting up in the morning

Last week I had to get up everyday at 3am to be at formal brief. I'm of the persuasion that anything before 5am is not morning but the dead of night. So I'm ecstatic the this week I get to wake up in the morning with actual sunshine and not only lamplight (thought I can't even see the sunshine until I get to our briefing room because there's no windows any where else (but still it's the thought that other normal people are up too)).

The downside to getting up "late" (6am is still a far cry from "late" and it's a shame I consider this sleeping-in now) is that your flight gets the later flights in the day. The later in the day the worse the weather. Winds pick up and there's a greater chance of rain. Today I flew out to an auxiliary airfield to do some pattern work (touch-and-go landings) and on my first approach when I was about 6 feet above the runway I encountered some wind shear (drastic change in wind direction or speed or both) and immediately dropped straight down to the runway. 6 feet may not seem like much in a 747 but in the Mighty Katana (sarcasm) it hurts and is enough to make you lose bowel control it's so scary (fortunately though the latter did not occur).

Even though the winds were horrid and I had some terrible landings I passed this ride (evidence of the grace of God) which means I'll get to solo tomorrow. It's cause to be excited but mostly it's a little freaky for someone with zero experience. Every time until now there's always been an extra human on board to divert the plane from it's seemingly imminent informal greeting with the ground when I really screw things up. So if you think about me tomorrow around 8-10am mountain time pray for the Holy Spirit to physically intervene in my life because I still need that extra pair of hands!!