The pilot stepped into the terminal and came over to the windows where they stood. His flight suit was soaked and small puddles started to form as the water dripped off the legs of his pants.
“Who’s in charge?”
“I am, sir. Gunnery Sergeant Ceisak.”
“We’re going to launch the next time the rain lets up. Do you have everyone here?”
“Yes, sir.”
Gunny looked out the window. The rain was falling so hard that the tail of the C-130 could not be seen. He looked back at the pilot, then down at the water on the floor.
“Sir, I’ve watched your crew run that motor four times. We’ve taxied out once, and had to come back. Now we have no visibility, a bad forecast, and a long night flight over water. Call it, and let’s try again in the morning.”
The pilot looked at Gunny Ceisak, “Sergeant, I am a Major in the United States Air Force. They pay me to fly. They expect to fly. If that aircraft is up, I plan to fly.”
The pilot turned and walked back out into the rain. The Marines stood and watched. Tom resisted the urge to speak. After a few minutes, the inboard engine started to turn. It cut the rain, creating a ball of mist that disappeared into the distance behind the wing. The falling water hammered on the roof of the terminal. They waited.
Ten minutes passed before the propeller slowly came to a stop. The pilot and crew came back into the terminal.
“Well, Sergeant, looks like you get one more night in the Philippines. Have your men here at 0800 tomorrow. Maintenance is coming in from Clark tonight,” the Major paused, “Sergeant, if I had decided to launch, what were you going to do?”
“I don’t know, sir. I’ve been standing here wondering the same thing.”
That picture got me to thinking about Finland… Gymnastics instructor indeed. Probably would have been the best work out I’ve had in awhile. But then again, I’m single.
Oops, posted on the wrong post…
Reminds me of the story my dear dead Dad told about how he got back from Saipan in 1945. He had the points to go home, and the friends and connections to get orders to catch a ride aboard USS Indianapolis. He said he had a bad fingerspitzengefuehl about it, and opted to wait for an airplane going his way. Glad he did so, or I maybe wouldn’t exist.
That’s what he told me; war story, y’know.
Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. So are they. If you were thinking about the picture, it’s a wonder you even posted on the right website.
Justthisguy:
Fingerspitzengefuehl?
Dave
Dave,
It’s a German word that describes having a sure instinct about something, sort of an insight or an intuitive understanding. I didn’t know, either.
ASM826
Umm, Dad didn’t actually *say* “fingerspitzengefuehl”, being a good ol’ boy from GA with no German and little Latin. I just think it’s a good foreignism , like “brennschluss”, for which there is no good English equivalent. I think I may have come across it in one of Liddell-Hart’s books?