CHAPTER 1

Notso

It was a beautiful, clear day in southern Texas when NOTSOpassed his "Safe for Solo" flight check. He was thrilled tohave passed that important test flight! To his surprise, he wasimmediately asked by his instructor if he would like to go forhis first SOLO flight.... RIGHT NOW! He wasted no time,and immediately responded with a hearty "YES, SIR!"

In what took less than 45 minutes, Second Lieutenant Brightwas taxing out of the chocks, heading for the runway to flyhis first SOLO flight in a jet. He was immediately cleared forTake Off, and spent about 45 minutes just doing anythingthat HE wanted to do! He felt like he was the most "COOL"guy in the Cosmos! He wanted to get some more landingpractice, so he decided to start heading home.

He chose to take just a little more time to simply enjoyhimself, amidst the beautiful weather. He chuckled to himselfwhen it popped into his head that this kind of weather isreferred to by the "Weather Guessers" as CAVU (Clear AndVisibility Unlimited), and he sure did have one that day.

As he scanned his gauges, he noticed that he had a littleextra gas left, so he headed for home to do a few "Touchand Goes." (Meaning: Land, then add power, climb, call theTower for permission, & turn down-wind, until at the 180degree position, where he simultaneously let down andturned toward the runway, and land (for a Full Stop) or doanother "Touch and Go," so as to repeat the cycle, again,depending upon his fuel state.

As he approached the field, he was advised by the ControlTower that a runway change was just beginning (due to a windshift) and the Tower told him to "loiter" and circle at 5,000 feet(AGL), in a left-turn, and wait until they can finish the RunwayChange. He appropriately said, "Roger," complied with hisinstructions, and took his position at the appropriate altitude.After an unusually long time, some other fliers arrived on thescene and joined him in "The Stack" at their appropriatelyassigned altitudes. When he checked his gauges, he noticeda "Red Light" on his fuel gauge, which was his signal that itwas time for him to land—SOON—because he was justabout out of fuel. His pesky little red light was doing its job,by bugging him, and reminding him that it's time to be on theground. He started becoming a bit nervous, so he called theTower, and declared "Low Fuel" (Which was exactly what hewas supposed to do.)

The Tower came back, and asked, "Are you declaring anEmergency?"

Now, I have flown long enough to know that asking a "brandnew" pilot if he/she wants to declare an Emergency, he/sheshould feel OBLIGATED to declare an Emergency becausethat is what he/she is SUPPOSED to do!

This controller, however, got his bowels in an uproar, andmade a "big deal" about it! Well.... So, what do you thinkhappens next?

The young lad was cleared to descend into the patternand was Cleared To Land. He flew a a great pass andflew "The Ball right on "the rails." As he flew over the ramphe was having to "Ease Gun" (pull the throttle back) morethan he ever had to before, and he then touched down onthe centerline of the runway.... and immediately the allHades broke loose!

HIS LANDING GEAR WERE STILL UP AND LOCKED!!

He told me, years later, that he was, "Just along for the ride,after he realized what was happening!"

After being knocked around in the cockpit a bit, andhearing many very loud and foreign sounds, the machinevery ungraciously came to a halt just off the left side of therunway. As he was shutting down and hastily evacuatingfrom his jet (just as he had been taught), he noticed "about ahundred" pieces of what used to be his flying machine.... Itwas spread all over the runway, and out in the weeds, too!

He was out of and away from the jet in record time. Whenthe Crash Crew and a Medical Van arrived at the scene, theyquickly noted the Tower that airplane parts were, ah ...

EVERYWHERE!

Our pilot was put into the Medical Van immediately by theCorpsmen. The Flight Surgeon was waiting for him in thevan, and, as soon as he sat down, he noticed a Sailor lyingin the van with a very bloody bandage wrapped aroundhis head. Well, our hero got a little panicky; because heimmediately thought that he had landed on top of this guy!

What REALLY happened was that, when the "Meat Wagon"hurriedly left the parking lot for the runway with sirens blaring,the Sailor turned out to be a Corpsman who was racing tocatch up with the Meat Wagon, who stumbled and fell on hishead! Although he was bleeding profusely, the Meat Wagonguys pulled him in, and rapidly continued to the crash site.

On their way to the crash site, they discovered that he wasnot as bad as they had originally thought. Captain Bright laterrelated that he thought that he had somehow landed on thisguy on the runway, and injured him, and it worried him a lotmore than landing with his landing gear up!

He also added, "As I was "cooling down, I soon realized thatI now had to put on my "dancing shoes" because I am goingto have a lot more to worry about back in the Squadron."

Our intrepid aviator, still in shock, was immediately taken tothe Flight Surgeon's Dispensary, as required by regulations,although he kept telling them that he was just fine. Whenthey finally released him, he went back to his SquadronReady Room in the ambulance. He knew what was goingto happen next, and he wanted to take his mind off thatthought. A million thoughts were cycling around in his "BrainHousing Group" in an amazingly rapid rate!" Once in theReady Room, everyone was very glad to see him. He was,in one piece, so everyone was thrilled.... EXCEPT ONEPERSON ... the Commanding Officer, who, not so politely"invited" him to his office, and told him to be sure to "Closethe door as you come in." Needless to say, our intrepidaviator did not expect—nor did he get—to be offered anycoffee or good will.

After the obligatory loudly spoken, fire from the nostrils, redfaced, one-way "discussion" the CO calmed down a bit,took a deep breath, and said, "What you did today was NOTVERY BRIGHT, Captain," as the CO rudely ushered him outof his office.

Well, Captain Bright was very down-trodden. When he gotdown to the Ready Room, all the other pilots wanted to knowwhat happened. By this time, our hero must have been quiteembarrassed by the whole thing, so he just replied to hisbuddies that, "The Skipper told me that I was "not so bright."

And—in my professional opinion—THE GREATESTCALLSIGN OF ALL TIME WAS BORN! That is:

NOTSO BRIGHT!

What a guy! He still acts just like he always did, back in hisyounger days. I proudly tell "Notso" stories to anyone whowill listen!

A while ago, Colonel Notso asked me if I was planning towrite about any of his "Bar Tricks." I had to fess up and tellhim that I had forgotten about that "expertise" he used tohave. Within a few seconds, it all came floating back to me,so, while I am at it, here is another (mostly true) story aboutmy favorite Mentor.

I met Colonel Notso again in the Officers' Club at MarineCorps Air Station, El Toro in Southern California, during aFriday night Happy Hour. As I walked in the door of the Club,I headed over toward the bar, and saw a balding little guysetting up drinks and making some deals with the manyOfficers at the Bar. I shied over toward the crowd, to seeColonel Notso doing a "Barker" routine, and Marines wereputting money on the bar to bet that Colonel Notso "couldn'tdo IT. I was not sure or what they all were doing, until one ofmy buddies arrived, and proceeded to tell me that "Notso" isdoing another one of his "things." Tonight, it looks like he'sbetting that he can drink a full Long Neck bottle of beer whilehanging upside down on the bar, without using his hands,and drink all the beer with his teeth without spilling any of it.You will like it—it's really cool.

Well, we pushed and wiggled our way through the massestoward the bar, and by the time we worked ourselves into aspot where we could see, we (naturally) needed some beer,so we pushed further up the bar, joked with Colonel Notso,got our beer, and bet that he COULD do IT (whatever "IT"was), and then.... he was about ready to do ... ah, "IT" ...and, YES, I know what you are thinking, and yes, you arecorrect—I was young (and a bit gullible) in those days!

Since I worked so hard to get close enough to see whatwas really going on, I grabbed another two beers for us withwhich to watch the show properly—whatever "it" was. Well,I got my wish in short order, because I heard the shout, "AllBets In!"

The money was then passed to the Bar Tender forsafe-keeping, and Notso pushed back the crowd, put thefull long neck beer bottle on the floor right next to the bar'sfoot rail. He then jumped up, hung by this calves on the bar,and facing away from the bar, did a "reverse push-up," andgrabbed the beer bottle with his teeth, turned it skyward,chugged all the beer in the bottle (while he was up-sidedown), placed the bottle where he had picked it up (with histeeth), and when it was empty, asked folks to give him someroom, and—when they cleared the way—he did a backwardflip to his feet. It was absolutely amazing! To say that I wasimpressed would have been WAY under-stated!

What a guy!!

From that day on, he became my favorite Devil Dog, Full BirdColonel!

Semper Fi, Sir

I believe.

CHAPTER 2

"Animal"

In the mid-60s, I learned to always "assume" that the"Animal" was pulling another of his "tricks" on me with allhis stories! He can make up a story ... himself ... rightout of thin air, down to the smallest detail, and then, five orten years later, also remember (what I assumed was BS)that he fed to us, down to those SAME smallest details! The"Animal"—AKA Al Ransom—has been kind enough throughthe years to give me some of his historical savvy, and, mostimportantly, his friendship in helping me in pulling this booktogether, as well. "Thanks for your help, Big Guy!"

In the early '60s, there was no such thing as a personal"Tactical Call Sign." Every fast-moving "Naval Aviator" (Yes,Marines fall into that category), in any given Squadron,pilots/RIOs used their assigned Squadron Call Sign (Suchas: Bugger, Huh?, Blade, Dixieland, for example). Back inthe "Good Ole Days" when men were men, and sheep wereafraid, and a Lineal Number in that specific Squadron wasassigned, from top to bottom. For example, the SquadronCommander's Call Sign would/could be "Blade One," andhis Executive Officer would be assigned "Blade Two," andso on, down the lineal list. That system worked pretty wellin the days when the aviators were sent to a Squadron, andthen stayed in that unit for a long time, normally deployingen-mass, as a singular unit.

Well "Someone" decided (Pause: Did anybody ever figureout who "Someone" WAS?) that the system was not workingterribly well, however, at about that time, "Someone" decidedthat Squadrons should train, then send individuals—oneby one—for Off-Shore assignments. In a few years, thatmethodology was discarded, in favor of unit rotations ... again.

The historically significant advent of encryptedcommunication capabilities has greatly enabled the warfighter to communicate with almost anyone in the world.Some other cultural things, however, remain the same.By that, I mean, things such as the famous and infamous"3-Man Lift."

I have absolutely no idea who invented the 3-Man Lift, nor doI know when it was debuted.... I have been told, however,that it was a Navy or a Marine Fighter Pilot on a very longvoyage (or deployment) who had absolutely nothing better todo than to think this one up. But, I digress....

The 3-Man Lift usually takes place in some sort of saloon,bar, picnic, or whatever—just use your imagination. (I sawone "performed" on the Beach on the Jersey Shore. Yup—Iwill always remember that one.... I was the "Lucky One"who was targeted, but I digress....)

The 3-Man Lift has been known to occur at a SquadronParty, Officers' Club (well, maybe NOT these days), a PrivateParty, or just about anywhere else where there is copiousquantities of beer (or other beverages) available. (PS: Urine,in any manner, shape, or form is NOT allowed to be inside of100 feet from the actual "lift." That would be a severe "DomiDomi"—meaning "A VERY BAD THING" in Japanese. The"Lift" is usually associated with a "special" event (.... beit a good event, or yet another super stupid, reckless, &/orREALLY DUMB action), or—frankly—just acting like a big,red, flaming, ahh, animal that might be taken for a donkey!

This is how the 3-Man Lift is supposed to be done.

For starters, it begins by 2 or more guys loudly arguing aboutsomething semi-believable such as:

- "Ya know, I can dead lift half a TON"

- "Can YOU lift 3 men by yourself? No?? Well, I can."

- "Well, I can lift three men ... all by myself!

- Or feel free to pick your own BS....

The "Barker" (who runs the show) initially begins by sayingsomething to the tune of: "OK, then, let's just find out howstrong you Marines REALLY are! I am looking for his twomore—ah—"participants." I want an average weight of about(Pick a number)"

Now, this is the "gaming" part.... TWO of the three folkswho will be" lifted" are In On The Game. So, they will beplaced in the front and the rear as the "human weight." Whenthe Barker says sit down on the floor, the "Target" is thenstrategically positioned between the two big guys who are "inon" what's REALLY going to happen.

When they get the three people they want, the Lifter thenwarms up by doing some calisthenics, and "participants"slither over to the bar for all/any kind of liquid (beer, booze,water, etc.), and are returning back to the "lift" area (which ispreferably tile or cement).

As the three men are being tightly positionedtogether—interlocked like a 3-Man "sled," the Barker isensuring that the "Target" is between the two people whoknow what is going to happen, and what their roles are.When the Barker sees that all the other people/bystandershave gathered their "liquid of choice," he positions thethree participants appropriately, checks that all bets are in,and encourages that the people move in as tightly togetheras possible—so that the "Lifter" can have enough room toactually lift these guys up. (Yeah.... Right).

When all is ready, the "Barker" slowly barks: 1.... 2....and on 2 the front guy rolls out forward, the back guy rollsbackward, and everybody else pours their liquids on top ofthe "Target."

I have to tell you.... a well-orchestrated "Three Man Lift" isa thing of BEAUTY!

Mister "Lucky One" then gets dry.... at least a little bit....and he also gets a free cold beer slapped in his hand!

I personally met The Animal early in my Marine Corps career,and had the pleasure of learning many "good" as well as"other" things from him. Although he tells his many storiesbest while sitting on a bar stool for several hours, I was ableto pin him down long enough to get his stories into this book.

Note: I had to kill a lot of brain cells during my quest toquantify what you are reading at this very instant! No saneguy should ever go "bar hopping" with the Animal, unless hecan drink as much as The Animal can.

The precise origin of Al's "Animal" Call Sign is unknown,however, it can be simplified by one lady's response tosome of his antics, by saying, "Oh, Al.... You are SUCH anANIMAL!" So many people were calling him an animal, hejust accepted "Animal" as a Call Sign. In addition, "AnimalAl," has a nice "ring" to it." (Think they will buy any of this,Animal?)

Well, I can tell story upon story regarding my wildest andcraziest mentor," Animal Al. He has been called a LOT ofthings, and most of them were actually really GOOD things.

So, when he went back to the States, the Blue Angels werejust gearing-up to fly F-11F Tigers. Whoever was trying outfor The Blues would have to get checked out in the Tiger,and they all would do it at NAS Beeville, in The Animal'sSquadron. The Animal was assigned to be their personalInstructor, and "Beans," Craig (USMC), was one of thoseguys who was in the squadron. He had been touted as areally good "stick."

"Bean's" specific training was to get spooled up to becomethe Solo Pilot for the Blue Angels (Navy DemonstrationTeam), ASAP! The Animal was assigned to check out all thenew guys in the F-11. Beans assured The Animal that theywould have fun doing this.

As they launched and climbed, The Animal was pointingout.... SILENCE! Whoops!

The Animal just had a "Flame Out"!

With a bit of "pucker factor" (with his butt securely suckeddown on the seat of his jet), he went through his formalRe-Light procedures. Pause. Pause. Pause.... and theBoooorrr sound indicated that the engine was spooling up,and everything was coming back on-line, albeit slowly. Henever said a word to his wingman, (who was glued to theDog's right wing), and as the engine spooled up, he gavehim the head nod for a "power up," and they continued themission. JUST LIKE IT NEVER HAPPENED!