Wars are made for young adventurersBrainwashed warriors seeking adventure and gloryUsing patriotism and a belief in their GodsTo justify the real reasons, too difficult to understand

But do praise these great young soldiersServing gallantly for us and themselvesChasing that medal which just might makeThe cowards jealous and prove themselves more

They were born too late for those splendid little warsWhen medal clad leaders led them up that hillTaught in history books and novelsI am sure they must have read

Young kids now must grow up fastTo fight in this new kind of hellNo longer can they fight just hand to handBut now must kill mothers, children and their principles

But, like wars in the past, the time does comeAnd finally the soldiers return homeBut they receive no hero’s welcomeAs we know they expected to receive

Instead they find the cowards respectedAnd people frightened and distrusting of themBecause people know what inhuman actsThese soldiers trained for and did so well

How can so many be influenced by so fewTo endure the ultimate misery and sacrifice of war

These are memories of the training the Combat Controllers of the sixties and early seventies were given.

Along with recounting the training, some memorable experiences were included.

I hope that all of my former teammates, and brothers I never had the pleasure of meeting, find enjoyment in remembering.

I also salute my young brothers who are so gallantly making Combat Controllers now known.

Contents

Airborne page 4

Practiced Misery page 9

Face of Death page 14

Tit-less WAF page 20

Recondo page 25

Branded page 32

Airborne

If my chute don’t open wideIF MY CHUTE DON’T OPEN WIDEI’ve got another one by my sideI’VE GOT ANOTHER ONE BY MY SIDE

Ft. Benning Georgia, Lawson FieldI was a strong young manJust what jump-school had to yieldI will tell you if I can

If that one should fail me tooIF THAT ONE SHOULD FAIL ME TOOBury me in my dress blueBURY ME IN MY DRESS BLUE

Air Force basic, boy scout campSix weeks of bullshit hellBehind my ears still slightly dampBut me feeling very well

I would wait for soldieringA month before our turnAt Lackland we sure had a flingThe old rape, pillage, and burn

5

Airborne, airborne, have you heardAIRBORNE, AIRBORNE, HAVE YOU HEARDWe’re gonna jump from a big iron birdWE’RE GONNA JUMP FROM A BIG IRON BIRD

We finally got there, feeling tough“Hey bus drivers” we heard him say“Drop and let me see your stuffThen yell airborne all the way”

We got checked in, then had a beerThey didn’t seem to careWhat we did with our free time hereJust don’t dare show any hair

The first week made me Pavlov’s dog“Hit it!” They would often shoutThen thoughtless as a wooden logWe’d pretend to be jumping out

Thirty-four foot towers, sort of funIf we hadn’t been so damn tiredThe cadre always made us runFrom gorillas, they’d been sired

6

Ain’t no use in going homeAIN’T NO USE IN GOING HOMEJody’s got your girl and goneJODY’S GOT YOUR GIRL AND GONE

Second week jump from a ten-foot rampThen do a P. L. F.I felt I might should leave that campBut I hadn’t enough strength left

Then hanging from a harness so that weWould be able to practice a turnThis was known as suspended agonyAnd, just why, we’d quickly learn

Losing half a day and all crotch skinAnd craving a nice warm showerNo time to dread what would come thenJump from the two hundred fifty foot tower

The first jump really happened fastI was hauled up, then floated downThe second jump I just sort of passedIn the confusion all around

7

Hey leg, dirty leg, chicken legHEY LEG, DIRTY LEG, CHICKEN LEGWe’re airborne all the wayWE’RE AIRBORNE ALL THE WAY

“Stand up, hook up, shuffle to the door”The cadre made us rehearse“Jump right out and count to four”Backing out now would sure be worse

Then I had them on, my reserve and mainAnd they were checked for the hundredth timeI vaguely remember getting on the planeI kept telling myself I’d be fine

There were twenty guys between me and the doorAnd our safety checks had been madeI began to question what I was there forI was too frightened to be afraid

I saw the green light and guys going outI wondered just how I would reactBut a slap on my ass, “hit it” was shoutBeing airborne was now a real fact

8

One of the things I remember most about the school was a briefing before our first jump.

An officer stood on a stage in one of the hangers with a projector screen behind him with the jump school logo showing.

We already had our chutes on and it was just minutes before we were to load on the C-119’s waiting just outside the hanger.

“I want all of you to remove any rings you have on and put them in your pocket.”

There was a loud grumble of protest as the officer continued,“I know that some of you may have religious or moral reasons not to

remove a wedding ring,” the officer paused as the grumbling subsided somewhat, “and I will not order you to comply,” he paused again as the projector changed to another picture, “but,” he never needed to finish that sentence.

The picture being displayed was of a finger, with the long tendons still attached, snagged on a rivet on the side of the door of a C-119 by a wedding ring.

The officer grinned as the married guys were sticking their ring fingers into their mouths to aid in getting the things off!

Practiced Misery

Now we all knew how to jump and dieBut our berets were blue, not greenWith no thought of fear we all would lieWe were all, way, too mean and lean

Then off to school of another kindWith our silver wings proudly shownAir Traffic Control exercised our mindLearning to handle all aircraft known

The FAA will have to wait its turnAs well as some decent payWe first must learn how to pillage and burnCCT School will show us the way

The map and Compass we must understandAnd perhaps to scuba diveThe proper way to fight hand-to-handAnd also how to properly survive

The ocean school was not so hardFlorida’s waters were crystal clearThen in the jungle mosquitoes would bombardThe pain quickly washed away with beer

10

Then on to Fairchild Air Force BaseAt first just attending classBut soon the secrets of this placeWould thoroughly kick us in the ass

The infiltration course at nightWe were told to cautiously crawlBut I sprinted through it in full flightAnd I finished the first of all

I had proudly arrived so ahead of timeBy at least an hour or moreI felt so good, I was in my primeThen I discovered what was in store

Now alone I was an easy markThe instructors had lots of funAs blood attracts a hungry sharkAnd I had no place I could run

They had me strip and they searched my clothesThey searched my body both outside and inHow I sneaked some stuff only heaven knowsThen I was thrown in a tiny pen

11

Several times I was taken outAnd placed in a collapsing boxThey’d kick it in with an angry shoutIt was now too small for even a fox

Instead of getting rid of jerksOr discharging a psychopathThe Air Force must have felt it worksFor us to get practice from their wrath

Then after months, or weeks, or daysThey took us to the campsWe practiced escape in many waysCombat Controllers were the champs

But once outside we must returnAnd, again, made to play the gameTheir vindictive nature we would learnWe’d pay for inducing their shame

Bury me in my dress blueI remembered that jump school songAnd what these jerks would do to youLooking back now, I know was wrong

12

Then in a while they let us outAnd in mountains they dropped us offThey paired us up, the weak with stout“Try to make it” they then would scoff

No food to eat or time to huntOr place to warm your feetThe objective here was sure quite bluntThere would be food at the place to meet

My partner had attended schoolWhere, in high school, I ran a barWe discussed that menu and both droolAnd without thinking we’d traveled far

I wonder what became of BillIf that was for sure his nameDid he ever have to use this skillI guess, of me, he wondered the same

13

I recently attended our 58th year reunion near Hurlburt Field. Four or five of us, and our wives, were sitting around a table drinking and laughing and the SERE training in this poem was mentioned.

One of us told his story of the poor rabbit that had been sacrificed to instruct his group on how to use everything available in a survival situation.

The instructor explained how even the eyeballs are edible and, of course, the Combat Controller volunteered to be a living illustration.

Well, as it turned out, all of us at that table had also been the ones, in our different groups, to eat the rabbit’s eyeballs.

We started asking the other old farts at the other tables and they, too, had been the ones to consume rabbit’s eyeballs.

Now not that many of the young warriors stationed at Hurlburt came to the Oasis each day because they were either working or training, but during the rest of that week we did a survey of every Combat Controller we came in contact with. Only one of the warriors admitted to not getting to consume an eyeball and that was because there were several Combat Controllers in his group and only two eyeballs!

Face Of Death

The initial training over withOn-the-job, we’ll train for nowGoing straight to Asia was just a mythAnd other things we must learn how

We learned to pack our parachuteWere immunized for every scourgeEvery weapon we would learn to shootInto the team we would surely merge

We worked the drop zone from the groundWe used it often from the airOut of different aircraft we would boundPretending danger was not a care

We learned to mark a landing zoneOn not more than a wide dirt roadThe radios became familiar as a phoneLanding planes with a tremendous load

As well as helping men jump outAnd lots of loads come downI learned what Skyhook was aboutA C-130 plucked you from the ground

15

One night the Army would deployAt exactly twenty-four-oh-ohI drew that mission with much joyAt that midnight I was NCO

On my jacket I’d sewn my sergeant’s rankOn my shirt still the airman’s shownWhen they jumped my promotion was in the bankWhat was to happen, I could not have known

The C-130 called to sayThat they would soon be thereI told them they were cleared this wayThere’s no wind on ground or in air

At a thousand feet I could see the lightI saw someone standing in the doorThen right above us, the first took flightHis chute opened, then came one more

The third thing coming out that nightFell straight down without a chuteFalling fast it soon was out of sightTrying to dodge it would be moot

16

I heard a, still remembered, soundA whistling with a rumbling roarTen feet away, it hit the groundThen bounced about ten feet more

I asked the plane was cargo thrownBy accident out of the doorThe pilot said, not that he’d knownBut he’d check, then tell me more

I shined a light toward the thingThat had just made us all duck downMy eyes and mind just wouldn’t bringThat truth my senses tried to drown

We often played some vicious tricksOn the loadmasters in the airWe’d pretend we’d pull them out for kicksJust to see their terrified stare

I saw the boots and human shapeI asked the pilot if a dummy was thrownBut the truth we now could not escapeThe silence meant the fact was known

17

I dropped the mic and ran to seeStill hoping I wasn’t rightThe final thing bringing reality to meWhen a man’s testicles shown in my light

I yelled to the medics, “it’s a man”They were young and they drove awayI decided to do whatever I canIf not more than just to pray

I saw an arm and got a pulseIt must mean that he isn’t deadThe next first-aid step made me repulseThere was a helmet but really no head

The next day Safety had me goBack out to have a look aroundThe impact point I would surely knowI found a watch there on the ground

On drop zones we found many thingsSome of value, some to throw awayCigarette lighters, coins and ringsWe considered them part of the pay

18

I retrieved the watch but it had brokeNearby was a piece of boneRecalling last night I began to chokeI was glad I was there alone

They said the severed static lineA guardsman had had the nerveHe swore he thought it would all be fineHe figured the jumper could use his reserve

He couldn’t have known that just a kidTurning eighteen on that very nightHe may have meant no harm in what he didHe might have thought it was all right

Later I was to see many, many dieSometimes common as taking a breathBut I’ll always remember that clear calm skyAnd my first look at the face of death

19

I think we’ve all done things that we normally wouldn’t do to make ourselves look tougher than we really are.

The day after that drop I was ordered to return to Holland Drop Zone and see if there was any evidence left that hadn’t been found in the dark the night before. I was sent because I was the one there most familiar with Holland Drop Zone.

I remember driving out Manchester Road that morning and remembering the night before. I can remember thinking more about those new Sergeant E-4 stripes on my shirt than about the poor kid who’d died the night before.

Once on the drop zone it all came back as I began looking around. I suddenly remembered my first jump in jump school and how I had to laugh at myself when I finally came to my senses as I shouted eight-one-thousands and realized that, fortunately for me, the chute had opened properly. I did a little calculating and wondered if the kid was saying, “eighteen-one-thousands” as he hit the ground. It was his sixth jump that night. And, he’d taken leave after jump school to get married and bring his new bride to his first assignment at Bragg.

Anyway, I did find his watch and it had broken right at midnight. And I did find a piece of bone, likely part of his jaw, on the ground near the watch.

I took both back to Base Safety and when I walked in the cute girl in the office asked what I’d found. I put the watch down and then after pausing long enough for her to digest what she was seeing, I put the bone down and, as though it were just another belonging, said I think it’s part of the jaw.

I know that then I thought I was showing the young lady how tough we Combat Controllers are. I’m sure now, she thought I was a very insensitive jerk.

Tit-less WAF

Along with brave heroic featsAlong with knowledge to surviveA time comes when this skill meetsThe proficiency to keep pilots alive

So we were sent at different timesThough we didn’t really want to goFor three months each of us climbsUp the tower for what we should know

Air traffic controllers, a different breedThough enlisted, thought they were aboveBecause they provided such a special needIn themselves they were quite in love

I suppose they resented such a primitive sortOf colleague invading their placeTheir tower was their private fortWe barbarians were invading their space

My shift tried hard to make me feelI could maybe be part of their clanTo get along, I tried, but stillThe shift sergeant I just couldn’t stand

21

We had super-connie radar flightsWe had fighters to protect old Cape CodI suppose looking down at his runway lightsFrom his tower, made him feel like God

But after some time I settled inI proved I had brains, not just brawnConfidence of the shift I would soon winFear of my ability now was all gone

I remember one night a connie calledEngine problems with both two and fourNo hope to get back if another one stalledThe ‘souls on board’ knew what might be in store

Nantucket Island was still quite a wayBut if they made it they might stay aliveHe’d try to make, I heard the pilot sayIn the water they could not survive

The last thing, from the pilot, we heardBefore the connie crashed into the seaMatter of factly, he transmitted his final wordI was amazed at how calm he could be

22

Next day in the paper I read the reportHow the pilot had been so braveTo intentionally ditch his aircraft shortAnd the island and its people he’d save

Now just about finished my rating I’d earnedJust one more night shift to performMore than I expected I know I had learnedAnd I had tolerated the shift sergeant’s scorn

Now it was a tradition, that the newest manAfter each shift was responsible to takeDown out of the tower the trash in the canNo more trouble than eating a cake

That night because it was my lastThe sergeant allowed me to leaveRather early and I left rather fastWithout the trash, which was his pet-peeve

I got to my apartment, ten miles awayAnd quickly was starting to packThe phone rang and I heard the sergeant sayWhat I’d forgotten and I must come back

23

I thought he was kidding, it couldn’t be realBut he said he’d cancel my facility cardI can’t describe just how angry he’d made me feelNot to cuss him was really quite hard

I drove back to the base, climbed the ninety-odd feetWalked in without saying a wordAnd the moment that sergeant’s and my eyes did meetNot a sound, in that tower, was heard

I picked up the trash can and opened an outside doorAnd I tossed it as far as I couldI turned to the sergeant, asked if this finished my tourIf not he’d follow and he knew that I would

Once back at my base I waited to seeWhat would become from my temper lossSurprised, but relieved, that the card came to meThe tit-less WAF got the drift of my toss

24

During these years we had to compete against Air Traffic Controllers for promotion. We had to know everything they did plus all the things we were required to know. It was really unfair and the policy of us getting facility rated every three years did help our scores on the Weighted Airman Promotion testing. I spent almost seven years in the Air Force so I was required to get facility rated twice. The first one was, at Otis AFB on Cape Cod, as related in this poem. I was a one striper at the time. As much as we disliked giving up three months of adventure to get these ratings, it did help us. My second rating was at Howard AFB in Panama. Not only did I know some of the controllers there, I got to spend three extra months in my favorite part of the world. And being a Staff Sergeant, I was treated in a much better manner.

I was at Cape Cod from February to May of 1967. They had a record winter and it was cold. I remember seeing a fox out by one of the distant runway lights several times and wondered what it was doing. Then, about the fourth time, I noticed it was heisting his leg to the light. We laughed at how he was using that light to keep his dick warm when he peed. So, from then on, when we’d see him we’d turn the lights up to make it even warmer.

Recondo

Of all the training that I recallAnd joint missions that I went onThe outfit that I think was best of allWas training with the Second Force Recon

Fifteen of us were picked to goTo learn to be the best marineAnd those guys at Geiger would quickly showThey’re the best we’d ever seen

At first they didn’t like us that muchWe tolerated their indignant stareWe changed our hats for a complying touchAnd we cut off every single hair

They put us through their P.T. testAs hard as we had ever knownWe showed them we could join the restOur capability we had certainly shown

The first night wasn’t fun at allWe had to go outside to the headSeparated by only a locker-wallI think they wished that we were dead

26

We understood how they must feelThey’d worked hard to get this farIt must have made their emotions reelOver lockers, all night, we did spar

Our two Captains’ night was much the sameOne’s boot had become a latrineWe decided not to pursue which nameHe was just being a recon marine

The next day classes went very wellAlong with learning we would shareOur techniques could help them and we could tellThey were relaxing that distrustful stare

One day with nothing much to doTheir Major had given a choiceA twenty-mile hike or the club for a brew“The hike” resounded before we found our voice

I’d always thought that a hike should beA nice stroll through the woods down a pathTaking your time with sights to seeBut they approached it with more of a wrath

27

Forty-odd pounds upon our backDidn’t feel like very much funAnd we’d carry weapons along with the packAnd by the way, let’s not walk, let’s run

Somehow we managed to make it throughWhether by a prayer or just a hopeAnd at the end with faces turning blueWhy not climb up the twenty-foot rope

One night the temp reached ten degreesWe crawled into the little planeA good night to jump right into the treesThese guys were totally insane

Once on the ground the course beganWe formed up our five-man teamA marine Lieutenant to observe our planThe worst now over it would seem

North Carolina shouldn’t get this coldWe hadn’t come that well preparedAnd the Lieutenant was shocked when he was toldTo keep warm the same bedding was shared

28

At midnight George Weimer had had enoughHe said his enlistment was doneHe said civilians are just not that toughBefore re-enlisting he’d have some fun

The Lieutenant knew the plan had beenIn the field he was to re-hireBut George said before he would swear inHe was first going to build us a fire

We’d found a narrow arm of landGoing deep back into a marshAnd on this island we now would standThe fire making the cold not so harsh

Unknown to us the Lieutenant’s jobWas to give away our position that nightSo the marines could attack in a large mobTo see just how well we could fight

We heard all the sad moans of agonyOf the marines wading through water and iceSomehow our fire they just couldn’t seeBut if they found us we’d sure pay the price

29

Over the radio came the Major’s voiceHad our Lieutenant made a mistakeOur campsite had been a lucky choiceA retreat the marines had to make

Another night on a compass courseIced over trees were falling downThen crossing a river with our forceIce water can sure make you frown

Three jumps were made when we were toldWith five comes the golden jump wingsIf after the fourth our plane we’d holdWe’d wear those beautiful things

Front and center came the young marineThis just had been his number fiveHe stood in front of the Major, lean and meanAs proud to be there, as to be alive

The gold wings were pinned into his shirtThey had prongs a good inch longWhen the Major hit him he tried to show no hurtBut he couldn’t conceal it very damn long

30

“Hoo-yaa” yelled out the young marine“Hoo-yaa” resounded the groupWhen dismissed we all saw a different sceneThe guy’s shirt was a bloody soup

Our training was now officially throughOur gung-ho attitude quickly diedMajor, thank you and also goodbye to youOur plane can’t wait, we readily lied

31

Chief Howell had rented a car when we got to Camp Lejeune. The training did keep us busy but several of us borrowed his rental car most evenings and went to the NCO club at the nearby Naval Air Station. One night it had snowed and there was a good five inches on the ground when we came out of the club in the wee hours. I don’t remember who was driving but we managed to get that car stuck right under the flagpole in front of Base Headquarters.

They weren’t happy with us but they did let us off with just repairing the grass after the snow melted off.

Branded

The Air Force didn’t draft a soulDuring that Viet Nam timeThey always met their number’s goalAvoiding the Army kept us a long line

But some of us just were not the kindTo just be hiding from the Army lifeSome questioned the sanity of our mindOur numbers were certainly not rife

Yet those of us who would volunteerWhen already in the Air Force safe wombTo take the road that the rest did fearConsidered a shortcut to your tomb

With the training never really throughThough the worst was now well behindWe now had become a cocky crewWell programmed in body and mind

We always were met with such disdainWhen our uniforms were so proudly wornWe’d never stoop to show any painFrom the civilian’s obvious scorn

33

The hippies all gathered at the beachOur only uniform was our short hairTheir sympathy sucked us just like a leachThey couldn’t know that we just didn’t care

I escaped at time these needless jeersWith many trips down to countries southAnd with the help of countless beersI’d clear that bad taste from my mouth

Panama became a great second homeWe were so loved by all of the whoresAnd in every country that I would roamMy uniform usually just opened up doors

American tourists and diplomatsWere not really liked very wellAnd just as different as our hatsWas our nature, the locals could tell

I guess that I loved those people soAnd not just for their Latin charmBut because they always seemed to knowAs individuals, we meant them no harm

34

One night a really good friend of mineWas out with me out on the townWillie Wood’s fame was in drinking wineAnd I could sure put lots of rum down

We passed by Chico’s tattoo shopWe’d passed by it many times beforeBut this time we both decided to stopInstead of drinking and taking a whore

We decided that we needed a brandSomething to let all those hippies knowWhen they saw us just how we did standAnd also to tell them where they could go

We agreed on getting something that at first glanceMight look like their symbol of choiceBut a closer look would show our stanceThen they’d run when they read our voice

We knew that a few had intentions of goodPerhaps sincere in their peaceful questAnd some even risked danger for how they stoodBut we loved humiliating all of the rest

35

After many adventures and seven-odd yearsI would marry and finally get outI’ll always remember those hippie’s jeersI’ll always remember their angry shout

Why have I kept the brand to this dayI guess for me it will always stand forHow we proudly performed for no real payWe were fighting for peace by practicing war

36

For years we had difficulty finding our former brothers after a discharge. A lot of the guys who were just ‘four and out’ were lost to us.I’d like to thank the CCA for all it’s done to get us back together.

And a very special thanks to an old friend, Wayne Norrad, who has been the one who made the CCA what it is today. And of course, thanks to all the folks that have given so much time and resources to give us a great organization.

And, without sgtmacsbar.com, a lot of our old teammates would never have been located. A big THANK YOU to Mike McReynolds!