Title: Re: Wondeful old aircraft
Post by Batch on Mar 4th, 2009 at 7:06pm
Marc, Don, Jackie, Pat,
Thanks for the kind words. I'm not sure you really want more photos and narrative... In other words, you gotta be careful when you ask a Fighter Pilot with hundreds of photos and sea stories to match for more...
However, as Pat has opened the door for me... here you go with another sampler..
Enjoy,
V/R, Batch
The following photos and vignette are from a book I've been writing over the last few years. To set the scene, the following photos were taken in May of '71 as we pulled out of a three-day R&R port call in Hong Kong on board USS Hancock CVA-19.
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The F-8J Crusader in the photo tied down next to Hancock's island, was one of our VF-24 fighters loaded out with two AIM-9G Sidewinder air-to-air heat seeking missiles and 500 rounds of 20mm ammo. The Yellow Shirt aircraft handlers spotted it on the starboard cat for the Alert-5 a few minutes after these photos were taken. Although the port call in Hong Kong gave us a break from the air war in Viet Nam, we were always in a constant state of readiness for the cold war with the Soviets.
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The Soviets loved to send a Bear or a couple Badgers out to "bounce" US Navy aircraft carriers pulling out of any port in the Western Pacific. In preparation for this we maintained two fighters in an Alert-5 status and four in Alert-15 any time we were not conducting flight operations. We stood the Alert-5 watch in the ready room in full flight gear, but had to man, start, and be off the cat in less than 5 minutes in order to fly out in full afterburner to intercept the incoming bogeys before they could close within 100 nautical miles of the ship. Most of us managed this task very effectively with the cat stroking in four minutes and thirty seconds from the “Launch The Alert-5” call over the ship’s 1MC loudspeaker system…
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As you can see from the photos, most of us were wearing our latest fineries from Hong Kong. These included Fur Coats, Vintage Leather Flying Helmets, Scarves, Jodhpurs, Riding Boots, Blue Suede Cowboy Boots, and Little Lord Fauntleroy suits. All were all acceptable uniforms of the day. Noseeme camo and cutoffs were also acceptable attire for photo ops like this…
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We were gun fighters, so it was only natural to pack heavy weapons long before Rambo and the Governator made them popular like our 20mm Colt Mk-12 cannon and 125 round belts loaded with 20mm TP Ball, Armor Piercing Incendiary (API), and Armor Piercing High Explosive Incendiary (APHEI) with every fifth round an Armor Piercing Tracer (APT) just for grins.
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Eat your heart out Rambo…
Flying wasn’t everything during a nine-month deployment to South East Asia where we would average six to seven 30 day plus line periods on Yankee Station, it was just most of it. After 30 to 35 days of continuous flight ops for 12 hours a day during each line period were we were each flying an average of 25 to 30 combat sorties (60 to 70 hours flight time a month), we all looked forward to the 3-day in-port periods.
These in-port periods gave us an opportunity to limber up our drinking arms and extinguish the alcohol low level light that had been flashing red for over a month, sleep without a catapult stroking or arresting gear screeching 5 feet above our heads, call home (we didn’t have satellite phones aboard ship in those days), catch some sun, see the sights, or just about anything to get away from the ship for a few days. Did I mention drink as much as possible without getting “captured” by the local natives or the Shore Patrol, and still make it back to the ship or BOQ for the night?
The following is an example of a day’s activity during one of these in-port periods at NAS Cubi Point, RP. It’s titled Monkey Business at the Cubi BOQ.
It was a typical in port period like so many others. A few of us that were lucky enough to fly into Cubi ahead of the ship had laid claim to the squadron’s assigned room in the Cubi BOQ. We spent most of the day conducting ray recoveries at the pool, swimming, munching on Cubi Dogs, and sipping Cubi Specials (A delightful tropical concoction of pineapple juice, orange juice, mango juice, cranberry juice, and grenadine all mixed with rum... Lots of rum…).
After a restful but sweaty combat nap… (the temp and humidity in the BOQ room were both at 90 and some low life had cockaroached our window mounted AC unit), we showered, donned our finest liberty duds consisting of the latest Izod shirts, custom slacks made to fit by our favorite Hong Kong tailors, and new hand-made penny loafers… Mine were from the Kow Hoo Shoe Company in Hong Kong. The next event was a rendezvous in the BOQ dining room around 1700 with several other pilots from the Squadron and Air Wing.
The hanging Steamboat Round roast was better than average so we ate hardily. When we finished the meal we sortied back to the pool cabana to rest and sip another couple Cubi Specials while we conducted mission planning for the night’s activities. The planning was well underway when we noticed a large tribe of 20 to 25 Philippine Macaque monkeys perched in the triple canopy rain forest trees located in the jungle at the edge of the BOQ swimming pool area.
After a few minutes it became obvious the Macaques were as interested in watching us as we were in watching them… About that time I got the bright idea to see how tame they were so I went back into the BOQ dining room and picked up a large wicker basket of roles and returned to the cabana area. I tossed the first roll on the grass beneath the outstretched branch closest to the ground. Immediately, a half dozen of the smaller juvenile Macaques jumped to the ground and started after the roll.
A few seconds later a large alpha male Macaque jumped down and with a few loud scolding sounds sent the juveniles scrambling back into the lower branches. He picked up the roll and took a bite to a loud cacophony of yelps and cries from the rest of the tribe… So I tossed a second roll 30 to 40 feet further down the lawn under another group of juvenile Macaques. They leapt to the ground and started after the roll only to be chased away by the larger alpha male making even more vociferous scolding sounds. The game was on…
In rapid succession, I fired rolls at either end of the lawn only to have the alpha male race after each of them until he had a roll in his mouth, one in each hand, and one clutched in a foot… The king of the tribe stood there with a defiant look on his face then took the roll out of his mouth and yawned to show me his inch and a half long canine teeth.
It was then I noticed the door was open on the Dempsey Dumpster across from the BOQ kitchen… My first throw was on target, and the roll sailed through the open dumpster door and hit the inside wall of the dumpster with an audible thud. The king of the Macaque tribe just stood there looking at me and yawned again. I threw a few more rolls through the open door and by then the juvenile Macaques figured the king was too busy so started out of the tree towards the dumpster.
That was evidently too much for the alpha male as he ran to the dumpster carrying his booty of rolls then dropped them and jumped through the open door into the dumpster. I ran after him and slammed the dumpster door closed and latched it. I hammered on the dumpster’s metal door a few times with the palm of my hand just to let him know he’d made a big mistake. I’m not well versed in the different calls of the Philippine Macaque, but from the sounds coming from the dumpster, this was one pissed off Macaque. I tossed the remaining rolls for the rest of the tribe and returned to the group seated at our covered table next to the shallow end of the pool to finish my Cubi Special.
A couple minutes later a Philippino steward emerged from the kitchen door with a bag of trash and headed towards the dumpster. I started to get up to warn him, but the groupthink at the table was “wait… Let’s see what happens…”
The steward jerked the dumpster door open and swung the bag of trash through the open door in a single fluid motion then he froze for an instant. He’d seen the large male Macaque crouched inside… and the Macaque had seen him. Both let out with a loud scream as the steward jumped back and began sprinting for the kitchen door roughly 40 yards away with the Macaque high tailing after him a few yards back and closing…
We were consumed with laughter. The entire event could not have been scripted better. The steward made it safely into the kitchen and slammed the screen door shut just as the Macaque made a final leap at the steward landing half way up the screen door. The Macaque hung there for a few seconds scolding as only an enraged Macaque would do to let the steward know he was very pissed. This gave rise to another round of tearful laughter at our table.
It’s funny how things can change in an instant… and you know deep down inside the tables have turned and you’ve just landed in a world of hurt… The Macaque turned his head in our direction and yawned… Only this was a far more menacing yawn and his inch and a half long canine teeth appeared to grow even longer. Our laughter stopped the instant his head turned, then the Macaque charged. Being experienced and adept at dodging pesky SAM missiles fired at us as we flew over Hanoi and jinking to avoid errant Sidewinders from the rear of the Alpha Strike formation, we instinctively leapt into the pool, liberty duds, handmade penny loafers and all…
What happened next was truly amazing. The Macaque began taunting us. He raced to the edge of the pool, took a firm grip on the coping, and began barking at us as he raised and lowered his eyebrows and yawned to show his teeth.
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He paced back and forth along the edge of the pool barking and occasionally faking jumps that had us backing away ever closer to the deep end of the pool. I don’t recall who, but someone said “Macaques can’t swim can they?”
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The vision of Japanese Macaques swimming in the hot springs at Nikko, Japan flashed through my mind and I blurted out “I’m afraid so” just as the Macaque barked and faked another leap into the pool. The next thing I knew we were all in the deep end of the pool treading water…
The old Macaque raced around the edge of the pool to the deep end yawning at us then sat contented with his back to us facing the triple canopy. He sat there for at least a minute occasionally looking over his shoulder and yawning to show us his teeth. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the alpha Macaque was cracking a smile…
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Satisfied he’d shown us who was boss, the Macaque calmly got up and walked back to the edge of the jungle, his tail held high with a triumphant crook in it, then leapt onto one of the lower branches and climbed out of sight.
“Way to go Batch” were the only words spoken as we waded across the shallow end of the pool and climbed out… I looked over my shoulder towards the BOQ kitchen door as we squished our way back to our room on the second deck, and sure enough, there was the Philippino steward who had outsprinted the angry Macaque, doubled over in laughter… The evening’s festivities went on as planned except we were wearing our second best set of liberty duds, tennis shoes, or soggy penny loafers. © 2008 - 2009 Pete Batcheller, Crusader Driver
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