| Letters and Diary Non-Fiction posted November 24, 2018 |
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Non-fiction/contest/Best Time Of My life.
Back To The Past
by BOO ghost
The time of my life: Contest Winner
The day was June 1, 1981. I had graduated from Coahoma County High School, in Clarksdale, Mississippi.
Big Red.
During my senior year, I joined the T.I.D.E. work release program, and the Navy's Delayed Entry Program.
I enlisted and was indoctrinated into the US Navy, at Memphis MEPS. After passing a rigorous physical exam, I was inoculated with a pneumatic shot gun.
My orders read: Naval Combat Training Facility, Orlando, Florida.
It was almost summer, if I had a brain in my head, I would have chosen Great Lakes, in Chicago, Illinois.
That damn grinder was hotter than Hades, when you were assuming the pushup position.
"Permission to begin, sir! 1--sir! 2--sir! 3--sir!" The count tallied to twenty.
Unfortunately, I was a Gomer Pyle goofball. The black Chief Petty Officer, CPO, drill instructor, singled me out for being an airdale.
Essentially, it was a roller coaster ride, beginning from boot camp to the Rag squadron, VP-31, at NAS Moffett Field, California.
From Orlando Florida, I attended Naval Aircrew Candidate School in Pensacola, Florida. I Saw the officers ring the bell across the street.
I was an AW. An Anti-Submarine Warfare Operator. I was a First Class swimmer, in case our bird ditched into the sea. All cadets had to tread water. We wore a helmet, flight suit, LPA, Life Preserver Apparatus, and flight boots.
We swam a mile in our flame retardant flight suit. I jumped off a tower and swam the length of the pool, submerged.
Was dunked in the Helo and Dilbert dunker, I parachuted into water, ran at red dawn, storming the beach. I was ejection seat qualified for the S-3 Viking.
I jumped off a navy LST boat, into the Pensacola Bay, while outfitted in aircrew gear.
Paranoid, I watched jellyfish float by. That frightened me more than the coral reef sharks and baracuda.
An HS-47 Chinook, airlifted us from the bay, then dropped us in.
As a safety NATOPS precaution, airmen must let the helicopter harness and cable assembly touch the water. Otherwise, static electricity, generated by rotors, would shock you.
After graduating from ACCS, Air Crew Candidate School, I attended A School in Millington, Tennessee. This is where I learned the fundamentals of tracking submarines and analyzing grams.
We learned to classify types of diesel and nuclear-powered submarines.
I graduated A school in Millington, and was deployed to the Rag VP-31, in Moffett Field, Ca. Then to BIG Red. VP-19. Patrol Squadron Nineteen.
From Moffett, I went to S.E.R.E. school on Coronado Island, near San Diego.
Ultimately, I made two deployments while in VP-19 squadron. We won the Battle (E) twice. From PE-01 - PE-14. We had thirteen aircrews and fourteen birds.
I did two six month WestPac deployments. One in Misawa, Japan, and Okinawa Airbase.
Another deployment to Diego Garcia, in the middle of the Indian Ocean. It's B.I.O.T. An acronym for British Indian Ocean Territory.
I went to places like the Philippines, Guam, Hawaii, Bangkok, Thailand, Osan, Korea, Seeb, Muscat Oman, El Masira, Djibouti, Mombasa, Kenya.
Mogadishu Somalia and Berbera were dangerous places. There was no running water in the US embassy in Mogadishu.
Berbera is near the Ethiopian and Somali border. There was a civil war there. One night, I stepped outside to urinate, I heard the distinctive sound of an Ak-47 cocking.
My IFT, Inflight Technician, put on a shoe. I heard a scream. A scorpion was inside his shoe. Luckily, it was not poisonous.
I was paid hazardous duty pay for flying and flew numerous sorties. I logged 1,700 hours.
I tracked several Russian submarines encroaching the USA Pacific west coast.
I enjoyed flying in the P-3 Orion. Just reminiscing, listening to the four turboprops sing, listening to the whale's cry.
Sonobuoys can pick up sounds of snapping shrimp too.
The navy was dangerous, but it was the best days of my life.
This was a close-knit squadron. We tracked subs and kept our seas safe. I dream, and go back to the past.
The day was June 1, 1981. I had graduated from Coahoma County High School, in Clarksdale, Mississippi.
Big Red.
During my senior year, I joined the T.I.D.E. work release program, and the Navy's Delayed Entry Program.
I enlisted and was indoctrinated into the US Navy, at Memphis MEPS. After passing a rigorous physical exam, I was inoculated with a pneumatic shot gun.
My orders read: Naval Combat Training Facility, Orlando, Florida.
It was almost summer, if I had a brain in my head, I would have chosen Great Lakes, in Chicago, Illinois.
That damn grinder was hotter than Hades, when you were assuming the pushup position.
"Permission to begin, sir! 1--sir! 2--sir! 3--sir!" The count tallied to twenty.
Unfortunately, I was a Gomer Pyle goofball. The black Chief Petty Officer, CPO, drill instructor, singled me out for being an airdale.
Essentially, it was a roller coaster ride, beginning from boot camp to the Rag squadron, VP-31, at NAS Moffett Field, California.
From Orlando Florida, I attended Naval Aircrew Candidate School in Pensacola, Florida. I Saw the officers ring the bell across the street.
I was an AW. An Anti-Submarine Warfare Operator. I was a First Class swimmer, in case our bird ditched into the sea. All cadets had to tread water. We wore a helmet, flight suit, LPA, Life Preserver Apparatus, and flight boots.
We swam a mile in our flame retardant flight suit. I jumped off a tower and swam the length of the pool, submerged.
Was dunked in the Helo and Dilbert dunker, I parachuted into water, ran at red dawn, storming the beach. I was ejection seat qualified for the S-3 Viking.
I jumped off a navy LST boat, into the Pensacola Bay, while outfitted in aircrew gear.
Paranoid, I watched jellyfish float by. That frightened me more than the coral reef sharks and baracuda.
An HS-47 Chinook, airlifted us from the bay, then dropped us in.
As a safety NATOPS precaution, airmen must let the helicopter harness and cable assembly touch the water. Otherwise, static electricity, generated by rotors, would shock you.
After graduating from ACCS, Air Crew Candidate School, I attended A School in Millington, Tennessee. This is where I learned the fundamentals of tracking submarines and analyzing grams.
We learned to classify types of diesel and nuclear-powered submarines.
I graduated A school in Millington, and was deployed to the Rag VP-31, in Moffett Field, Ca. Then to BIG Red. VP-19. Patrol Squadron Nineteen.
From Moffett, I went to S.E.R.E. school on Coronado Island, near San Diego.
Ultimately, I made two deployments while in VP-19 squadron. We won the Battle (E) twice. From PE-01 - PE-14. We had thirteen aircrews and fourteen birds.
I did two six month WestPac deployments. One in Misawa, Japan, and Okinawa Airbase.
Another deployment to Diego Garcia, in the middle of the Indian Ocean. It's B.I.O.T. An acronym for British Indian Ocean Territory.
I went to places like the Philippines, Guam, Hawaii, Bangkok, Thailand, Osan, Korea, Seeb, Muscat Oman, El Masira, Djibouti, Mombasa, Kenya.
Mogadishu Somalia and Berbera were dangerous places. There was no running water in the US embassy in Mogadishu.
Berbera is near the Ethiopian and Somali border. There was a civil war there. One night, I stepped outside to urinate, I heard the distinctive sound of an Ak-47 cocking.
My IFT, Inflight Technician, put on a shoe. I heard a scream. A scorpion was inside his shoe. Luckily, it was not poisonous.
I was paid hazardous duty pay for flying and flew numerous sorties. I logged 1,700 hours.
I tracked several Russian submarines encroaching the USA Pacific west coast.
I enjoyed flying in the P-3 Orion. Just reminiscing, listening to the four turboprops sing, listening to the whale's cry.
Sonobuoys can pick up sounds of snapping shrimp too.
The navy was dangerous, but it was the best days of my life.
This was a close-knit squadron. We tracked subs and kept our seas safe. I dream, and go back to the past.
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Writing Prompt Write a short story. The topic is: The best time you ever had in your life. It can be as an adult or as a child. Please keep it clean. Minimum length 100 words. Maximum Length 4,000 words. |
The time of my life: Contest Winner |
 Recognized |
|
I write these notes in my diary, as I fly many sorties over the seven seas while in the navy. I put this short story together.
Pays
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