My draft lottery number was 333. Good thing too, since I failed my first attempt at A&M. I probably wouldn't have had the second chance to get it right if I had been 150 or lower? But, I notice that a lot of my classmates have military service, so I am curious, any stories out there about your careers, intentional or not? Or maybe there's a draft dodger or two. My two brothers were in the Marines and Navy about that time, and my Dad was in the Air Force. My Dad was the only one to draw combat pay (while in Thailand), not sure what he did though. Hope to hear a few stories...

My dad was in the USAF. That's how we happened to move to SA. We arrived in 1961 and my dad retired in 1966 (more details on my profile page). I have an older brother (Mac Class of '64) that went to LSU and was in AFROTC (later making a 25 year USAF career). When I went to UT/Austin, it was almost natural (and perhaps expected) that I would join AFROTC, too. I did so, along with Terry Maxfield. Upon graduation in May, 1973, I was commissioned a second louie but didn't go on active duty until Sept. of that year. That deferral was quite common at that time, since the Viet Nam war had "ended" earlier in '73 with the return of the POWs, and there was a "surplus" of officers returning stateside. (Do you remember watching POWs deplane in US territory? WOW! I had chills! Did any of you have a POW/MIA bracelet? My guy did not return, but I still have the bracelet.) I was an intelligence officer (yes, I KNOW that "military intelligence" seems to be an oxymoron). I was stationed at Lowry AFB, Denver, CO for 6 mos. of training, then was assigned to Davis-Monthan AFB, Tucson, AZ for the remainder of my time. I am considered a "Viet Nam-era vet". I left the USAF after 3 years, 11 months and 1 day (it's on my DD 214/discharge papers) to attend law school in Houston. I've been here ever since.

My Dad was a 30 year man who flew combat in WWII (two aerial victories) and Vietnam and he encouraged me to join the service upon HS graduation.  I was 17 when I graduated High School and I was clearly not college material and my Dad offered me no support in that regard.  To prove myself to him I started the enlistment process with the Marine Corps and it required both parents to sign since I was not of legal age.  My mother was horrified and refused to sign as Life Magazine had just published their "One Weeks Toll" issue and could envision me on their next cover.  To mark time until I turned 18 I enrolled in the local community college and worked part time to pay for it...and my Mother also slipped me a few bucks under the table.  I ended up liking college (and the California girls therein) and kept my student deferment until I graduated with my B.A.  I then moved to Bozeman, Montana to get the hell out of smog-bound, hippie heaven California to live in the Rockies.  The best job I could get was building a chicken coop (they didn't think much of California immigrants) , so after 6 months I found myself in the Air Force Recruiter's office.  Recruiting Service did a fancy dance to get me in (because I was a legacy) as I did have some legal issues and the Peace Accords had just been signed and the AF was drawing down. I ended up going through Officer Training School and Missile Launch Officer Training.  I became a Titan II Missile Launch officer sitting alert with Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles fighting the "Cold War" waiting for World War III.  The senior officers over us were cut from the McManus cloth and threatened our existence daily if we so much as farted in the ranks.  The saying was "it's human to err but to forgive is not SAC policy" and this was personified in a poster common in our offices in those days of a medieval knight's armored fist holding a detached set of bloody gonads with the previous quote over the grisly fist.  All this over a few nukes under our control.   I always said that I had more responsibility as a Second Lieutenant, at age 22, than I have the rest of my life.  From that lofty post I started working my way downhill through a succession of disparate jobs: Police Commander, Exec officer of a Tactical Fighter Wing (F-4s) in Germany,  Officer Training School Instructor/Exec Officer, Joint Service Training Officer, Recruiting Squardon Commander, and Headquarters Staff officer for the last several years of my career.  I always felt guilty in that I never faced a shot fired in anger in my long career (just a few stray terrorists in Europe)...during the closing years of "Nam I was buried underground in Kansas, during Desert Storm I was a Recruting Sq CC and all recruiters were frozen to keep the manpower flow going, and finally I retired 10 days prior to 9-11.  I did, however, to paraphrase the words of an Army Officer from Band of Brothers, "serve in the company of heroes".   As a young "cop" I was mentored by crusty senior NCOs who fought on the ground in the closing days of WWII.   Then, as the non-flying Exec of an F-4 Phantom Wing right after "Nam" I worked daily and became friends with highly decorated aircrew members and a couple of former POWs.  Later, I was on the personal staff of Gen Charlie Duke, one of the 12 men to walk on the moon.  I always wished I could have done more for my country, but also felt fortunate to have had the opportunity to serve considering the shaky start I had in my young life.

The 6th thru most of the 8th grades I lived in Lubbock. Actually, just off base at Reese AFB. It was a SAC base, and I remember my Dad having in his bedroom a red telephone with no dial along with the normal black telephone with the rotary dial. This was at the height of the "Red Scare" during the Kennedy administration, I Think. My Dad was gone a lot and drank heavily with his buddies, but Reese was a perfect place for us kids...officers pool, golf course, even duck hunting at the big lake there. I remember the Billy Mitchell memorial at the base entrance too...

Roger-How does one train to launch a missile? Is it like the movies where both keys are inserted, and synchronized turning...was there ever a moment when you thought there might be reason to launch? did you know your target(s)? seems an awesome responsibility for any 22 year old.

Ken-As I said above, the AF bases we were stationed at Hondo, Laredo, Randolph, Maxwell and Reese were really equipped for the officers and their families. I remember the Officers club in Alabama (Maxwell) really well. I suppose that Arizona and Colorado were similarly entertaining, or was it all work and no play?

Gary..re your question on training etc.  Since the Titan II system is now defunct I think we are safe in talking about this.  I went through about 7 months of specialized training at three locations to prepare...including several weeks at Vandenburg AFB in California where they conducted test launches of various types of disarmed missiles.  We also had our own simulators...just like flight simulators...at our home base where we practiced launches when we were not sitting alert.  We had 4 man crews....two officers and two enlisted men.  The enlisted guys were responsible for the facilties and computer.  The two officers, typically a Captain and a Lt were the Commander and Deputy Commander of the Launch Complex respectively.  We worked 24-30 hour shifts, which included briefings at the base and drive time as the silos were many miles away from the home base. The officers wore sidearms at all times and we had cops assigned to our silos for security.  We were constantly undergoing war games to test our proficiency.  We were not officially told our targets but we deduced from world events where the targets were.  We also knew our silos were targeted and knew we were dead meat if the ballon ever went up.  Right before I went on crew there was an international incident that raised the alert level the highest it had been in anyone's memory so as a result crewmembers were not complacent and always felt that disaster was within the realm of possibility.  And yes....the launch process you refer to is the final step....and we always felt the sidearms were really to make sure your partner did not falter at the critical moment.  While I was on crew, Burt Lancaster made a movie called "Twilights Last Gleaming" about a takeover of one our complexes....and showed stuff that made us real uneasy....and made us wonder why hollywood wasn't getting spanked for breaching security.  The responsibility was daunting for a young guy who scraped by in Katzer's Science Class and just a few short months ago was building a chicken coop in Montana.

Gary..Hondo, Laredo, and Reese were all geared to Pilot Training...and all now closed.  Hondo was really a satellite of Randolph and where Flight Screening was conducted.  Randolph is primarily a Headquarters for our Training Command, Recruiting Service, and Personnel Center....also has Pilot Instructor and Nav training.  Maxwell is our big center for ongoing "education" of our officer and Senior NCO corps...Air War College etc.  So all the bases you mentioned are officer oriented and more money pumped into nice facilities.   Randolph, in my opinion, is our finest base, often referred to as "officer heaven".  I found the overseas USAF bases to be much more spartan. For a couple of years I had a Joint Service job and I traveled to all service bases,...and in general I found that USAF bases were much nicer than the rest.  The Marines love to diss the cushy USAF lifestyle.

Gary...re your comments about your Dad being gone alot and drinking heavily.  Ditto for my Dad....Air Force Men of that era were notorious drinkers, smokers, and womanizers....especially the pilots.  That culture was alive and well when I signed on in 1973.  As a matter of fact throughout the 70s we had mandatory Beer Call at the Officer's Club in the units I was in.  We also frequently had strippers performing at Happy Hour...no clothes...no problem. Typically, Unit Commanders would hold court in the bar...sitting at the head of your table and counting noses.  Your shit was in the wind if you failed to appear at Beer Call.  When I was in the Cops I used to have an old WWII era First Sergeant I just loved (and whom I could never beat to work in the morning) who would stand in the doorway to my office every afternoon at 1600 hours and say "Sir, I'm reporting to the NCO Club to check and see if the beer is still warm".  We were expected to be able to stay up late drinking, hold our liquor, drive ourselves home, and report to work before the sun came up the next morning.  Copping to a hangover did not fly. The slow intergration of women into the Air Force in the late 70s and early 80s ended up civilizing us more.  It was like having your sisters, neices, or mother around and we had to watch our cussing and drinking and pictures of naked women on the walls.  Eventually, the services embraced "alcohol deglamorization" programs and other such politically correct policies to curb the denigration of women and self destructive behavior on the part of macho-minded men.  By the time I retired in 2001 I could hardly recognize the Air Force anymore.  And my old man was complaining about the "Boy Scouts" in the Air Force back in the late 60s....damn!   My Dad said in the 50s he had a Wing Commander overseas who would actually lock all the officers in the Club on a Friday/Saturday night and not let them out until everyone was drunk and he was good and ready.  Any non-drinkers were considered unfit for military service.  Wild.

The last few years of my Dad's service career was at Randolph, in what he termed "manpower". He was in a group that designed the barracks at Berkstrom AFB in Austin. the round stilted ones I think that are now Hotels?

I wonder why the divorce rate wasn't higher in those days? "It's a man's World..."

More than once we got stuck at home in our "Sunday go-to-meeting clothes" waiting for Pop to come home, and he never did (or at least not until the wee hours). Now I know why. However, in fairness my folks did party together a lot too in those days.

Lest the readers go away with the impression that USAF life (and by implication, all military life) was always wild and crazy, I have to say that I became closer to my faith while on active duty than I had ever been before. I attended a church while living in Tucson that was 50-50 military and civilian. My deacon lived across the street from me on the base and was an African-American officer with a great family--we are still friends today, 30+ years later. Many other church leaders were military men who had occupied similar positions in other churches on other bases and found it only natural to do so at the base where I was stationed when our lives intersected. When the USAF moved them on to the next assignment, they again found a church in which to serve and worship. 

One of our best friends is a USAF Academy graduate, and is a very spiritual, committed Christian. Our church home in San Marcos has several ex-marines (Iknow they don't want to be called that). It was just that my experience growing up was more in line with Rogers description than Kens, but I'm not putting either down. I think my Dad's in "heaven", despite himself, and isn't that what grace is about...

Ken...your comments are respectfully noted...I also ran across some sincerely devout folks.  I found that wings with primarily a flying mission were wilder.  A straight arrow had a hard row to hoe in any kind of a Tactical Fighter outfit.  I did have one Base Commander in the 70s who expected his officers to not only do the entire Beer Call ritual...but to also stand down every wed afternoon to play golf....and to also show up in church Sunday morning.  I must confess that I failed at two of the three required formations.  I was counseled by senior officers more than once for not playing golf as it was considered a networking must to get promoted.  Most commanders I had left your religious beliefs alone.

To Gary and Ken who have both lost their Air Force Dads.......as grim and personal as this sounds I am at this very moment working on my Dad's obituary ....inbetween our posting about their antics.  My Dad is....unbelievably still alive at 85 but failing more every day from multiple health issues...I really don't know how long he has.  He should have been dead years ago...if not from enemy fire or aviation mishaps from the smoking and drinking and hard living.   He often quotes Mickey Mantle saying "if I would have known I was going to live this long I would have taken better care of myself".   It's my military training ....I guess....that wants me to be prepared for his passing and not get caught short when all the details (and emotions) will be on my plate.  I mention this for no reason other than to illustrate what we have in common and to express empahty and respect for what you have already gone through.

Out of respect for my dad, who passed away in 1996, I would like to throw in my Air Force brat upbringing also.  He was also a 30-year man, who had his pilot’s license at the age of 17 (before his driver’s license), and joined the Army Air Corps to fly cargo planes over the Pacific during WW II.  His dad, a Greek immigrant was ready to hand over a plush, upscale Bay Ridge Brooklyn, New York restaurant to him, but my dad wanted no part of New York City life.  So after WW II ended, he went back to school on the GI bill, married my mom, and eventually obtained a degree from St. John’s University and a Law Degree from New York Law School.  However, the Korean war came along next, so after turning down the family restaurant business, he re-enlisted in the Air Force (no longer called the Army Air Corps) to do what he liked and what he thought he was best at – flying.

The 30 years took us to Craig AFB in Selma Alabama where my younger sister, Lori was born, and where he became a T-33 instructor pilot.  That assignment was followed up by a 4 year tour to Europe:  Phalsburg, France flying F-86’s and Ramstein, Germany flying F-101’s.  Then from green, cool Germany to hot, brown Laredo AFB, Texas in 1961, just in time for Hurricane Carla.  With his law background he became the base procurement officer.  Laredo was fun.  I do remember the officer’s club swimming pool in the summers quite well.  Not so much for the relief from 100-degree temperatures, but for the “celebrations” around the pool after some young pilot had completed his first solo.  About once or twice a week, usually around say 5 pm, a bunch of loud guys in their flight suits would suddenly burst thru the club (bar) doors and commence to have the biggest, most hard fought shoving contest one little 10 or 11 year old boy could imagine.  The objective of course was to get the soloist into the pool which never failed.  However all his happy drinking buddies ended up in the pool also – maybe a dozen guys or so.  Then for us kids it was payday time because all their nickels, dimes, and quarters from their flight suit pockets were lying on the bottom of the pool.   Now me always having a love for the water, and being the Youth Center swim champ, had a distinct advantage over all the other rookie kid swimmers.  So when the men’s competition was over, and the waters became safe again, the boy’s competition began.   And I usually cleaned up with the most change – several dollars worth!!  First summer job I ever had in addition to loading the skeet house at the base.

Now back to my Dad, sorry about that.  After Laredo came Randolph where he continued procuring (and where I joined the Garner and Mac ranks starting in 9^th grade).  He flew either T-37’s or T-39’s.  I remember him loving the T-39’s, as they were just after all, really very fast, small passenger jets.  In 1968 at the age of 44 he went to DaNang, Vietnam to fly F-4 Phantoms.  He flew 171 combat missions (100 over North Vietnam).  It was our junior year, and I got to drive his ’65 gold Barracuda (like Court’s) while he was risking his life.  He was awarded the Silver Star Medal, 2 Distinguished Flying Crosses, the Air Medal with 12 clusters, and the Vietnamese Air Medal, Honor Class.  I’m looking at the first two now.  The Silver Star was for taking out a SAM site immediately after his wingman had been hit and killed by it.  He came back from Vietnam angry.  He had a problem with our generation hating and protesting him and the war.  He was just doing what he was ordered to do and I could never argue against that point.  When he returned he got “fed up” with not feeling supported and respected.  He was reassigned to Randolph where he became the 3515^th Fighter Training Wing operations officer, and I finished out my senior year at Mac.

My dad’s later career took him to Torrejon AFB, Madrid, Spain, then to Norton AFB, Calif., and lastly Kelly AFB back in San Antonio where he retired as a full colonel.  You won’t get an argument out of me of who “The Greatest Generation” is.

In conclusion, after discussing the “notorious drinkers, smokers, and womanizers” issue with my sister, who ended up marrying a F-15 fighter pilot from the Air Force Academy, I’d like to submit my vote as . . . in agreement with that statement.  It does pertain to the Air Force men of that era (our dads’).   Let me quote from my sister.

“I think pilots were notorious for drinking, smoking, womanizing and being real studs – in their own minds if nothing else.  I think the combination of women entering the service (sexual harassment suits and political correctness) have tamed things a bit, but also the speed and technical challenges of flying modern day fighter jets have made it impossible to fly with a hangover and stay alive.  Personally, I think pilots caring about their own lives and careers have more of an impact on behavior than what women in the ranks could do to mindset and attitude.  They still think they are pretty studly.  HA!”

P.S.  My wife’s dad is a retired, 20-year Air Force pilot.

It appears from a poll of 4, that the Mac class of 69 would say that 75% of AF pilots are wild and crazy, and 25% are normal.  Probably close to the same percentages as a H.S. football or swim team.   

Bren, you are justifiably proud of your dad and his accomplishments--a Silver Star--not to mention his other medals--is a BIG deal.

I remember my dad saying he was in his first year of college at Baylor when the attack on Pearl Harbor occurred. He said all the young men wanted to quit school and join up but a prof suggested that they wait until they finished the year before doing so, on the grounds that no one knew how long the war would last, and quitting then would cause them to lose credit for the entire year. So, my dad and a few of his friends waited until "the summer of '42", joined up, with my dad choosing the Army Air Corps. He then went to Randolph AFB for basic flight training and then on to fighter training school, first in FL and then in GA, where he met my mom. They got engaged and he went overseas for 16 mos.--from Feb., '44 until May, '45. In the South Pacific, he flew P-38s, P-39s and P-40s as part of the 13th AF that supported the island hopping strategy of Gen. Douglas MacArthur--a squadron mate of my dad's wrote a book about his experiences in WWII and I learned a lot about what my dad and his compadres experienced by reading it. He returned to the US and made a beeline for GA where he married my mom. He separated from the AAC in 1946 and returned to college, finishing his degree at what is now East Texas Baptist University in Commerce, Texas. When the Korean War broke out, he was recalled to active duty and remained in what was now the USAF until his retirement in 1966. Upon return to active duty, he was assigned to atomic weapons and sent to Eniwetok in 1950 as part of a group monitoring atomic weapons tests. Later, he flew transports and weather assessment planes, then ended his career as a desk jockey which frustrated him, as he "longed to slip the surly bonds of earth". When my dad passed away, his surviving buddies in the 13th AF listed him, as they did all deceased pilots, as being "on patrol". 

Ken...my Dad was also in 13AF in the Pacific..flying the P-38 Lightening and the P-39. believe  He did most of his time in the Solomon Islands...Guadalcanal zone.....flying off of Henderson Field (a sandy PSP airstrip with tents and foxholes).  I believe he was in the 12th Fighter Squadron.  He also did some time in the Fiji Islands and New Guinea.   He had just turned 19 when he got to the Pacific and they told him there was only one younger pilot in the Theater...a young Navy Pilot..who we think was George Bush Sr.  He mixed it up alot with the Japanese Zeros and picked up a couple of Air Medals as well as two victories.

Bren...having served as the Exec of an F-4 Wing, Post Vietnam, I can tell you how rare it is to see the Silver Star.  I served with hundreds of F-4 jocks who flew in Nam and I saw each of their records....it was part of my job....and I only knew three who earned the Silver Star.  I know you're proud.

My Dad was 40 when he went to Nam in 1965-66. He was the Tactical Air Command (TAC) Liason to Air Training Command at Randolph when he got his orders. At Randolph he traveled to all the Pilot Training Bases and gave the TAC presentation on the Fighter Aircraft...something they could shoot for if they finished high enough in their class.  His orders to Nam were to train the South Vietnamese Fighter Pilots.  After he reported in they diverted him to serve as a Liason with Army Special Forces ...part of the "Pacification and Civic Action Program"...more commonly known as the "Hearts and Minds" Program.  Tromping through the jungle trying to sell the Vietnamese villagers on "Americanization" and not supporting the communist North Vietnamese.  Gen Westmoreland pressured them to show high numbers of "converts" just like he did for the body counts.  Of course the villages were full of VC sympathizers and real VC and it was a thankless, dangerous, frusturating job for a Fighter Pilot.  He said he saw all kinds of inhumanity...mostly Vietnamese on Vietnamese.  He told the Army he had to fly X number of missions to keep his aeronautical rating (which was bogus) and he would report to Base Ops at Da Nang and volunteer to fly any missions on the board they would let him fly.  In those days you could get away with flying all kinds of Aircraft and schedulers would usually take your word on your qualifications...especially in a combat zone.  He said he flew mostly supply runs to fire bases etc with C-130s or C-47s.  He said he took alot of fire but only really got in real trouble getting trapped in minefields on the ground or flying as a passenger in choppers.  In the end he got into a world of hurt by refusing to falsify the number of"converts" for Westmoreland's program and the Army nailed him hard on his Officer Effectiveness Report which, in the long run, kept him from making full Colonel.  He made a couple of attempts to get it thrown out but no dice.  I always respected him for not lying about the numbers and doing what he thought was right....knowing that it would cost him professionally. 

A last note on women in the Air Force.  I can tell you from nearly 29 years in uniform that the intergration of women made a big difference in our USAF culture across the board....from the Flying side of the business to all the support elements of the AF....officers, enlisted ...everyone in blue.   It just did.  We slowly cleaned up our act and changed how we communicated, and how we behaved.....and it became instituionalized in various policies.  Like Bren...I still have friends in the Fighter business this very day....and I can tell you that they are working very hard to keep the Macho culture alive....(liquor bars in squadron areas is just one) ...but everyone above the squadron level is watching and ready to squash it down....but these young guys in fighters have high octane testosterone levels and just don't want to give up the ghost.   But don't take it from me....just ask "Motown"....he be one of those guys.