navybob
04-17-04, 09:25 PM
Thought you guys might enjoy a No Shitter from the Sub Service:
I was on a boomer with two crews. We were based in Charleston, S.C., but the boat was home-ported in Holy Loch, Scotland. We would fly there, have about five days of turnover from the other crew, they would fly home, and then we would take over the boat.
My first patrol, May, 1979, we were leaving Charleston. The Navy would contract out to commercial airlines to take us overseas. This time around they got Evergreen Airlines. This is an airline that, at the time, only flew on the west coast and into Alaska. We left Charleston and flew to some Air Force base in New Jersey to pick up a bunch of Army guys that were flying to Germany. We were on the ground in N.J. and I was in the second row of seats, very near the cockpit. I actually heard one of the three guys in the cockpit ask “Where are we flying?” Another guy in there answers “Prestwick Scotland.” The then first guy says “Do we have enough fuel to get there?” After a few minutes and some calculating, the Flight Engineer says it will be close and he suggests we plan a fuel stop somewhere.
So, we take off in New Jersey and I’m feeling real comfortable about this whole flight!! We then land in Bangor, Maine, at about 0200 for fuel. A ground crew guy comes on board and asks “Who’s paying for this gas?” The pilot says “I have a company credit card.” The ground crew guy says “I never heard of this company and we’re not taking your credit card!” Then my CO, a commander in his dress blues, stands up and says “How about if I write you a check?” The ground guy says “That would be fine, Captain.”
So now, this plane (I think it was a DC-8) with over 200 guys in it with all our sea bags, all the Army stuff and full fuel tanks, needs to take off from the moderate-length runway in Bangor, Maine. The plane begins to roll down the runway with much strain. We barely lifted off the ground and less than a second later the end of the runway flashes by. We slowly climbed to altitude and the rest of the flight was uneventful.
Fortunately this was my last flight to Scotland because the other crew’s next patrol brought the boat back to Charleston for good. But, even to this day, every time I get on a plane and I see those guys sitting in the cockpit, I remember that pilot asking “Do we have enough fuel to get there?”
Bob…..
I was on a boomer with two crews. We were based in Charleston, S.C., but the boat was home-ported in Holy Loch, Scotland. We would fly there, have about five days of turnover from the other crew, they would fly home, and then we would take over the boat.
My first patrol, May, 1979, we were leaving Charleston. The Navy would contract out to commercial airlines to take us overseas. This time around they got Evergreen Airlines. This is an airline that, at the time, only flew on the west coast and into Alaska. We left Charleston and flew to some Air Force base in New Jersey to pick up a bunch of Army guys that were flying to Germany. We were on the ground in N.J. and I was in the second row of seats, very near the cockpit. I actually heard one of the three guys in the cockpit ask “Where are we flying?” Another guy in there answers “Prestwick Scotland.” The then first guy says “Do we have enough fuel to get there?” After a few minutes and some calculating, the Flight Engineer says it will be close and he suggests we plan a fuel stop somewhere.
So, we take off in New Jersey and I’m feeling real comfortable about this whole flight!! We then land in Bangor, Maine, at about 0200 for fuel. A ground crew guy comes on board and asks “Who’s paying for this gas?” The pilot says “I have a company credit card.” The ground crew guy says “I never heard of this company and we’re not taking your credit card!” Then my CO, a commander in his dress blues, stands up and says “How about if I write you a check?” The ground guy says “That would be fine, Captain.”
So now, this plane (I think it was a DC-8) with over 200 guys in it with all our sea bags, all the Army stuff and full fuel tanks, needs to take off from the moderate-length runway in Bangor, Maine. The plane begins to roll down the runway with much strain. We barely lifted off the ground and less than a second later the end of the runway flashes by. We slowly climbed to altitude and the rest of the flight was uneventful.
Fortunately this was my last flight to Scotland because the other crew’s next patrol brought the boat back to Charleston for good. But, even to this day, every time I get on a plane and I see those guys sitting in the cockpit, I remember that pilot asking “Do we have enough fuel to get there?”
Bob…..