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A Hungry Pilot an ANGRY LOADMASTER
Eddie A. Lomeli, Msgt. USAF, Retired
100% Empty or 0% Full?
It was early February 1971, and the Vietnam War was raging. I had just
returned to active duty from the Air Force Reserves. This particular time I was
assigned to fly a mission to Vietnam and return; I was the primary Loadmaster.
I had an assistant this time, a young Airman Second Class, (E-3) fresh out of
tech school. The crew was made up of two pilots, two flight engineers, and us
two loadmasters. The mission would take us to Vietnam, with stops at Travis
AFB, Hicham AFB Hawaii, Wake Island, Kadena AB Okinawa, Vietnam and back.
Our alert call was very late at night; it was just before midnight, which meant
that our departure would be around 3:00 am. Some of our pre-departure duties
included load briefing, planning and sequencing, plus ordering meals and
beverages for the crew. We lucked out and didn't have passengers for this leg.
That meant we'd be able to rest at some point.
Since it was my assistant's first trip overseas, I briefly explained to him
what he could expect as far as crew duty day length and responsibilities. I
figured, that we would have plenty of time later on the flight to get into more
detail about what he could expect and what was expected of him. I also
explained to him that most of the time, our duties would require us to remain
at the aircraft during our ground times, while the rest of the crew would go
inside, file a flight plan and eat at the snack bar. We would not have that
luxury and couldn't count on anyone bringing us any food either. I had already
been through that myself.
After checking in at the squadron and our Mission Control office, we made our
way to check with Passenger Service to make sure and cover our required stops.
We also stopped and ordered the coffee for the crew and a snack for my young
assistant.
At Travis AFB, as predicted, we both had to remain at the aircraft to supervise
the loading, since it was fairly complicated. Besides, there were several other
aircraft ahead of us, so it would take a while. The loading went as advertised,
without a hitch. When the other crewmembers returned, one of the flight
engineers, the one who I had asked to bring me back a hamburger and a coke,
didn't do it and claimed that he forgot. Since I didn't have time to go in
myself, I went hungry.
A couple of hours later, halfway over the Pacific Ocean, my assistant decided
to eat his snack. Imagine his surprise, when he reached into the icebox and
found it empty. His meal was nowhere to be found. I knew that a meal had been
brought to the aircraft, because I signed for it before we left Norton AFB.
We set out to find his meal and started looking in the galley area and
vicinity, to no avail. I then went up to the flight deck and asked the
engineers first, they hadn't seen it. I looked around thinking that maybe
someone else might've put it in the flight deck for safekeeping or something.
As I looked toward the pilot's seat, there lo, and behold, against the wall
next to him was a white cardboard box, just like the missing meal. I knew
immediately what it was; it didn't take a genius to figure out what had
happened. I also noticed that it was empty already.
I went back to the cargo compartment and told my assistant where his box lunch
was. I suggested that he go and ask the pilot why he ate it, and that he demand
payment from him. He decided against it, he said that it wasn't that big a
deal.
I knew better and explained to him the ramifications; this man had to be
stopped. This behavior couldn't be allowed to continue unchecked. I pointed out
to him that he couldn't even claim the pilot as a dependent. The young airman
refused, he didn't want to match two stripes against two silver bars. However,
I didn't have that problem, since I had four and was not afraid to make waves.
I decided to take charge of this situation; a change had to be made.
I went back up to the flight deck and slid onto the seat between the pilots,
commonly known as the jump seat. I tapped the pilot on the shoulder and said to
him, "Sir, we need to talk."
He slid his headset off the right ear, leaned over toward me and asked, "What's
up, sergeant Lomeli?"
I asked him if he'd ordered a meal out of Norton and he said he hadn't. I told
him that my assistant had planned his activities accordingly and had ordered a
snack out of home station and now it was gone. I explained to him that the box
next to him was the only thing in the aircraft that resembled a box lunch and
if he hadn't ordered a box lunch, how did that box get so close to him and so
empty?
His reply really angered me, but I tried not to show it. He said, "Well, I was
hungry. I didn't have anything to eat and then I found that box in the crew
galley, so I took it."
I was angry and expressed my displeasure and dismay at his inconsiderate
actions. I mentioned to him the effects of his behavior on his subordinates'
morale. Hell, he wouldn't dare do it to one of his peers, or would he? This
conversation took less than two minutes. I figured I better quit before I said
something that might get me in trouble.
I went back to the cargo compartment and further lectured my assistant on his
options, and I stressed the fact that a stop at Mac Donald's was not one of
them. I again stressed the fact that he had to stand up for his rights and that
if he let this man get away with it, he would just keep on doing it, but he
didn't want to do anything about it. He said he didn't want to make any waves.
I knew then that it would be up to me to do something, in order to prevent this
kind of thing from happening again.
The following day, on the next leg, wouldn't you know it, history repeated
itself; the pilot ate the young loadmaster's meal again. We were halfway to
Wake Island, when my assistant loadmaster decided to eat his meal, imagine the
shock; his meal was gone again. This took me aback; I didn't expect it to
happen again, especially after all the commotion the previous day. As soon as
we discovered it missing, I went to the flight deck and spotted the empty box
next to the pilot; just like the day before. This jerk was a slow learner and
getting good at it. I knew I really had to do something about it; this could
not be ignored any longer. I went and tapped the pilot on the shoulder. He slid
his headset off the right ear, cocked his head and asked, "What can I do for
you, sergeant Lomeli?"
I told him in a solemn and controlled tone of voice," Sir, please take off your
headset, so we can talk. I want to have your full attention and I don't want
the radio or intercom to interrupt us, before I say what I need to say."
He took the headset off and put it over his right knee as he looked at me with
a puzzled look. I asked him about the meal and he came out with the same lame
excuse from the day before. I didn't like it the day before, and I liked it
even less this time. I mentioned the fact that his actions were highly
detrimental to the morale of the enlisted in the unit, and that it wasn't
enhancing his standing with his peers either. I didn't see the slightest hint
of remorse during our discussion.
I thought I'd better end this discussion quick, so I said to him, "I'll tell
you what, you owe my assistant loadmaster for two snacks at seventy cents each,
which is a dollar and forty cents. And while we are at it, I have nominated
you, to pay for the crew coffee for the whole trip.
He said to me, "Why seventy cents per snack? He only paid thirty-five cents
each that's half. I don't see why I should have to pay seventy cents, when he
only paid thirty-five cents each."
I told him, "You are right sir, he didn't pay that much, but you would have.
That will be $1.40, cash, and I will take it now."
He grudgingly reached into his flight suit pocket and pulled out his money. He
counted two dollars and fifty cents and put it in my cupped hand. I turned
toward my second loadmaster and gave it to him. Now, for the coffee, that will
be two dollars more, please. I got the money and put it in my pocket. The young
loadmaster couldn't believe what he had just seen, a staff sergeant getting the
best of a pilot.
The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful, and this situation did not repeat
itself for the rest of the trip. All the way home, I kept wrestling with my
thoughts...Should I forget the whole thing? Should I file a complaint? It was a
tough decision to make and I kept toying with the idea.
It was early morning when we got back to Norton, -our home station, I decided
to finish the job; it was almost too easy. While finishing up our duties prior
to going home, the Operations Officer walked up to us enlisted crewmembers and
asked how it had gone. It was almost like he already knew, but wanted me to say
it, because he sure seemed to be very interested in me and me and my young
assistant. I couldn't hold it anymore, so I said to him, "I need to talk to you
in your office."
As soon as we walked in, he asked what the problem was and I told him. I went
into great detail about the pilot's actions and how I responded to them. I
thought I could detect a hint of a smile, but he just nodded and said that he'd
take care of it without delay. He also told me that this pilot had been known
to do this kind of thing from time to time. He said that he was impressed with
the way I handled it. He liked my ingenuity and daring, since not too many
people would've handled it the same way. He thanked me for my input, and now it
was time to go and finish the job.
I walked out of his office and he followed me out to the hallway and in a
fairly loud voice called the pilot into his office. We all knew what was to
follow, some good old-fashioned butt chewing; we were not disappointed.
The building was at the end of one of the hangars and the hallway went forever,
it seemed like. The ceilings were very tall, but the walls were no higher than
the ones in the average house; that left a lot of room for sound to travel, and
travel it did. We all got an earful of the one sided conversation. The pilot
could only say, "Yes, sir." " No, sir." "I am sorry, sir." "It won't happen
again, sir.""
As soon as the Operations Officer finished with him, the Squadron Commander,
Lt. Colonel Bailey took over. Man, this man could do some butt chewing, he was
a real pro at it; we all enjoyed the show. I left before the whole thing was
over and went home.
I don't know if he ever ate anyone else's meal again, but if he did, I never
heard about it. Our paths never crossed again and I never missed him anyway.
I must add in closing, that this was an extremely rare incident. For the most
part, the officers that I had the pleasure to work with, both on the ground and
in the air were outstanding individuals. I had the distinct pleasure to serve
with some of the finest officers and enlisted personnel that I could've asked
for.
My assignment to the 14th MAS, (Military Airlift Squadron) at
Norton, was one of my most enjoyable assignments. It was a class organization
and didn't have too many people like the one mentioned in this story. This
anecdote is true, as are all the facts. Some of the names involved escape me,
after all, it has been thirty years plus, and names and faces do get clouded by
Father Time. However, the facts remain vividly engraved in my memory bank.
Eddie
While we are on the subject of box lunches, check out Chris
Behren's great pages at this link:
Box
Nasties
There's a bunch of pictures of lunches from all over the world.
More Box Lunch Info
Here's a couple of Letters to the Editor from Airman magazine, February
2001. To read the original article that inspired these two letters see Booms Know What's Cookin, October '00.
BOX NASTIES
Letter #1
Dear AIRMAN:
IT WAS VERY BRAVE of Senior Airman Martin to call his flight meal a 'box
nasty'.
He may want to make a close inspection of his next flight meal. I find it
unfortunate 'services bashing' is so popular this magazine would actually think
it's OK to print such comments. It's hard enough to motivate and retain quality
services airmen without them reading derogatory comments about the job they do
in a magazine that should be supportive of all Air Force members. While
'Airman' may not share Martin's views on the quality of meals provided,
printing his comment was unnecessary and added nothing to the article. You
could have said he preferred his cooking to the flight meals. I hope you
exercise a little editorial license next time, and Martin learns to respect and
appreciate the people who work hard to support him.
Tech. Sgt. Don Bowles
Kadena Air Base, Japan
Letter #2
Dear AIRMAN:
I WAS PLEASED to see boom operators are being creative at 32,000 feet with
their ovens. However, some of my staff and I were slightly tweaked at the
article, which could have just focused on the creativity of two aircrew members
baking sweet rolls on long flights, but instead chose to play the 'box nasty'
card. Wouldn't it have been easier to refer to your high-flying cooking skills
as an alternative or supplement to the great flight meals from the food service
folks at Fairchild Air Force Base? This might seem frivolous, but frankly, when
you perpetuate terms like 'chow hall' and 'bag-nasty,' it shows no respect for
the services professionals who bust their tails to make sure you don't go
hungry. If the meals are really that bad, then it might be worth a visit to the
flight kitchen manager with some ideas for improvement.
Senior Master Sgt. Owen Davies
Elmendorf Air Force Base, Alaska
At Microsoft they have a saying, "We eat our own dog food.", which seems
especially relevant in this discussion. The phrase refers to the idea that they
actually use the software they foist off on the rest of us computer users.
I wonder how many box lunches these two guys actually ever ate at 0300 in a
cold C-141 at 35,000 feet over who-knows-where?
Please contact me via email if you
know.