- Joined
- May 31, 2004
- Messages
- 356
- Points
- 53
In the mid 1960's Cairns Army Airfield at Fort Rucker, Alabama, with over a thousand assigned aircraft, was the busiest airport in the U.S. if not the world.
Still, in the midst of this activity, interservice rivalry still appeared on a regular basis in the form of reciprical formalities granted to a sister service. In this case it was when Air Force jet jockies out of Eglin AFB, Florida would ask permission for a low level high speed pass through the active air space at Cairns. A hundred helicopters would hold position while a jet blasted past the tower at window height, hit the afterburners and broke the sound barrier just past the south boundary fence. Much to its chagrin, the Army, of course, had nothing as impressive.
One day, however, the tower at Eglin received a transmission, "Eglin control, this is Army 209."
"This is Eglin, go ahead."
"Roger Eglin, Army 209 requests permission for a low altitude high speed pass."
Controlling laughter, the tower responded, "Roger Army 209, permission granted."
The entire tower crew focused up the active curious about what this audacious pilot was driving. They saw nothing. A few grabbed binoculars for a better look, still nothing. Finally, one operator turned from the window to look downwind and let out a bloodcurdling scream. He was looking right into the maniacal grin of an O-1 Birddog pilot boring straight at the window. His scream galvanized his comrades and those that weren't frozen with fear dove for the floor.
The Birddog pilot threw it into a left bank and passed close enough to the tower for those still standing to read the recommended tire pressure on the main gear.
As the Birddog leveled off and proceeded back downwind, the pilot keyed his mike and said, "Boom, motherf****rs."
Eglin filed the expected protest, the Birddog pilot was verbally reprimanded and fined a carton of cigarettes, but no more jet jockies troubled the airspace over Cairns.
Still, in the midst of this activity, interservice rivalry still appeared on a regular basis in the form of reciprical formalities granted to a sister service. In this case it was when Air Force jet jockies out of Eglin AFB, Florida would ask permission for a low level high speed pass through the active air space at Cairns. A hundred helicopters would hold position while a jet blasted past the tower at window height, hit the afterburners and broke the sound barrier just past the south boundary fence. Much to its chagrin, the Army, of course, had nothing as impressive.
One day, however, the tower at Eglin received a transmission, "Eglin control, this is Army 209."
"This is Eglin, go ahead."
"Roger Eglin, Army 209 requests permission for a low altitude high speed pass."
Controlling laughter, the tower responded, "Roger Army 209, permission granted."
The entire tower crew focused up the active curious about what this audacious pilot was driving. They saw nothing. A few grabbed binoculars for a better look, still nothing. Finally, one operator turned from the window to look downwind and let out a bloodcurdling scream. He was looking right into the maniacal grin of an O-1 Birddog pilot boring straight at the window. His scream galvanized his comrades and those that weren't frozen with fear dove for the floor.
The Birddog pilot threw it into a left bank and passed close enough to the tower for those still standing to read the recommended tire pressure on the main gear.
As the Birddog leveled off and proceeded back downwind, the pilot keyed his mike and said, "Boom, motherf****rs."
Eglin filed the expected protest, the Birddog pilot was verbally reprimanded and fined a carton of cigarettes, but no more jet jockies troubled the airspace over Cairns.
