If you’ve
never been a military brat or been in uniform yourself, you might not be
familiar with one of the motivating factors that the military uses: The plaque. Each plaque includes your name, what you did, and customization from the presenting organization. A memento of a certain period of time.
Sure,
you get medals for specific things you’ve done or specific goals accomplished,
but besides that you sometimes find yourself being presented with either a
certificate or a plaque. Plaques are for things that
are one step beyond simply completing something but not quite enough to get a
medal. Over the course of a career, people normally put these up in their
office or at home on an I Love Me wall. When you consider a full career being
20 to 30 years of service, the number of plaques you acquire over that period
adds up.
When I
transitioned from the military to civilian life, I got rid of a few plaques,
but then there were some I just couldn’t part with at that point, so I wrapped
him up and stuck them in a box. Recently, I took time to make another cut in my
plaque collection, and the ones pictured above are the ones that are now
history.
The
oldest plaque is for Airmen of the Quarter when I was at Langley Air Force
Base. It was the last thing I did before becoming an NCO.
The two
similar plaques are from when I attended Leadership School on Guam. One is for
being the Class Speaker; the other for being a Distinguished Graduate. Whereas
I arrived at the school knowing I was going to take the Class Speaker award,
Distinguished Graduate was a surprise. I still remember the school vividly,
having learned a lot about leadership there. Also learned the importance of
ongoing education; not just for further advancement but because taking time
away from the job refreshed the spirit.
The NCO
of the month award for February 1986 was while part of the aerial port unit.
After completing Leadership School, I changed my specialty from transportation
to logistics planning. So, the plaque from the 43rd Bombardment Wing only
covers the year I spent there prior to moving back to the US. Yes, the military
gives you plaques simply because you’re leaving.
The
last two plaques in the picture were simply because I was moving on. One from
the 305 Air Refueling Wing at Grissom Air Force Base and another from the 930th
Maintenance Squadron (AFRC).
These
are not all the plaques that I have. These are the ones that I’ve decided it
was time to part with. Saying goodbye to them is bittersweet, but necessary.
These were part of the past long ago and served the purpose of recognizing
significant things I did but more importantly keeping me motivated during the
two decades I spent in uniform.
From
this point on, my dentist will probably be the only one doing plaque removal.
When I
walked into the Air Force recruiter’s office all those years ago, he asked me
what job I wanted. I’d already taken the ASVAB test and the linguistics test as
well. I scored high enough that I could have had any job in any of the
services. He asked me about becoming an aircraft mechanic. I told him I was
okay with that as long as I didn’t have to ride in anything I ever fixed. He
stared at me for a minute, waiting for me to explain, and eventually I added, I
have zero mechanical skills, and knowing that there was no way I’d board
anything I fixed. He smiled, and then we reviewed several other jobs that had
nothing to do with mechanics. Thanks to that brief interchange, the Air Force
probably saved an aircraft.
Fast-forward
years later, I was serving with the 930th Fighter Wing as a logistics planner.
I liked the job for a lot of reasons mainly because I was good at it. I was
deployed within the A-10 maintenance unit to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Arizona,
working out of a ready room near the flightline. Since I’d been part of the
unit for several years, I was comfortable enough to step out of my role occasionally
and into others I thought might be a good way to pass the time. Standing near
the edge of the flightline, watching the morning takeoffs, I was talking to the
Chief for maintenance as the crews got planes ready to go. At some point I made
an offhand remark that I’d like to crew chief an A10 not as a full career but just
as a onetime deal. As is often the case, if you say words in front of the right
person, things happen.
The
next morning when I walked into the ready room, the Chief saw me across the
room and walked right over. Putting his right hand on my shoulder, he said, “Today’s
your lucky day; you’re going to go launch and recover an A-10.” Without waiting
for me to respond, he waved one of the veteran crew chiefs over and quickly
explained that I was going to be doing a launch and recovery of his plane that
morning. I half expected an objection since some amateur was going to get to
play with his airplane, but he smiled and said, “Let’s go have some fun.”
Before anyone
gets upset, I was never just turned loose on a multimillion-dollar airplane. I
was being closely supervised by a crew chief with decades of experience, and I
carried with me the knowledge of how to operate safely on the flightline where
fighters were located having done it myself for several years. The Air Force’s
formal program trains an auxiliary workforce to launch and recover aircraft,
allowing people not normally involved to assist. It’s called cross-utilization
training (CUT). I was getting the abbreviated version.
We
walked out to his plane on the flightline, and he quickly oriented me on the
steps it took to launch. We walked around each of the positions on the aircraft;
he explained what each did and then took me back to the nose aircraft where I’d
be working from. He then handed me a checklist, and we started going over each
step and what functions had to be performed and verified. We went over the list
twice, and I felt comfortable with each step. We spent maybe an hour out there,
but when it was done, he declared me ready, and we went off to get a cup of
coffee until the pilot was scheduled to show up. I was pretty wired at actually
getting to do this. I know it may seem silly to crew chiefs who did this three
times a day every day, but for me it was something far different from my normal
skill set. We saw the aircrew van headed for the flightline, so we walked back out
to the aircraft.
Aside
from the maintenance folks, nobody knew what I was up to that morning until the
pilot walked up to the aircraft. Like the other guys, I stopped and saluted the
wing commander as he walked toward the A-10. A look of confusion crossed his
face for a moment, and then he asked, “Why are you out here?” I replied I was his
crew chief du jour. He looked over my shoulder toward the real chew grew chief,
who was standing, and then nodded. “Okay, why?” For the past several months, I
had been working on a special duty assignment with the Wing Commander that was
going to downsize the unit. So, my response to his question was an inside joke “Looking
for job security.” He smiled and turned to climb up the ladder into the
cockpit.
With
the pilot securely in place, I began running through the checklist with a few
other airmen helping me accomplish the preflight of the plane with the pilot. I’ll
never forget standing there with the aircraft completely ready to go, rendering
the salute to the pilot as he pulled out of the parking space and the airframe
I was in charge of – – for the moment – – rolled forward and started heading
for the end of the runway. My part was done, but at the end of the runway there
were guys who would arm all the munitions. I followed the veteran crew chief
back into the break room, and for the next three hours we sat and played euchre
while the plane went off to fly its mission at the range.
We
walked back onto the flightline as the plane taxied back to its parking spot. I
then marshaled it into a perfect parking position and ran the return checklist
on the plane. After the pilot shut down the engines, I stood by on the ground
as he climbed out of the cockpit and returned to earth. I asked if he had had a
pleasant flight and if there were any problems. He smiled and shook his head. “No
problems at all, crew chief.”
I
turned toward the actual crew chief with a huge grin on my face. A successful
mission is one where the takeoffs and landings are equal. I’d done that.
There
are many things I did in the Air Force both regular and reserve that I never
would’ve been part of if I hadn’t raised my hand and put on the uniform. Once I
did that, it was easy to seek other challenges and life experiences within the
realm. I am so glad that I can count this as one of them.
Not my launch, but this will give you some idea of the process.
