Fun in the Sun

Thirty some hours off in Savannah was nice, but despite clear skies and lots of sunshine, it was very chilly. The walk from our hotel along the river to the Riverfront section of town was quite brisk, given the gusty north wind. After a bite to eat, I went in search of a pair of shorts - our next destination was a little farther south, in the Caribbean. I usually pack for every season, winter and summer clothing, given that we never know where we are going until we get there. But I never imagined that when we left Seattle in January that we'd end up in the sunny Caribbean, where the high temperature was 79 degrees F.

We left Georgia behind the next morning and flew along the Florida coastline until we were abeam Cape Canaveral. As we turned southeast towards the Bahamas, we admired the launch facilities at the Kennedy Space Center below us. There were only two of us pilots now - our young co-pilot had left for home yesterday with a family emergency, but fortunately our flight to the Netherlands Antilles was a short one. There would be no need for sleep en route today.

After dodging a buildup of thunderstorms between Puerto Rico and the Antilles, we descended for landing. Rain squalls blanketed much of the island and we did not break out until we were nearly on top of the airfield. I kept the jet in tight and visually maneuvered for a landing. After shutting down the engines, it started raining heavily. Gusty wind was blowing the warm tropical rain sideways and water was soon covering the floor of the cargo compartment. After finishing our post-flight duties, we headed downtown for a scheduled overnight stay. Originally, we had expected 24-hours off, but it had been changed to a more modest 17-hour ground time. Good deals usually don't last very long in this job, but we'd make the best of it, even if we wouldn't see the beach during our short ground time.

Shortly after we landed, Lt Col F, who had been fighting off some kind of bug, decided he should finally see somebody about it while we held down a place at the hotel bar. When he returned, he gave us the "bad" news - a 102 degree fever and other ailments. Our short overnight had just turned into a mini-vacation. The earliest he'd be able to fly was at least three days due to the medication he'd been given.

So, early the next morning I had to complete my summer wardrobe. A pair of swim trunks and flip flops later, we were off for the beach. One of the loadmasters told us about a snorkeling trip and we quickly signed up. We spent the rest of the afternoon on a dive boat and snorkeling over a sunken tugboat in more than 20 feet of water. There were thousands of fish of all colors, shapes, and sizes. It was such a good time that we extended the rental of our snorkel gear a second day.

There were enough Americans at the hotel that they set up a large screen television for the Superbowl, although heavy wind and rain disrupted satellite service for half of the first quarter. The Dutch didn't really get the appeal of American football, but we had a good time anyway.
After another day of sitting on the beach and touring the colorful downtown area, we were soon ready to depart. Lt Col F was somewhat better, at least well enough to fly home. When we finally blocked in the aircraft in cool and dreary Tacoma, Washington, we knew what a great trip this one had been. These kinds of trips don't happen often.

Bon Bini!

Germany Quick-turn

After crossing the North Atlantic, we landed in Germany around 3 pm. It was cold, but not much colder than back home in Seattle - about 35 degrees F. I was extremely tired; one of the other pilots had slept longer than his allotment, leaving me awake for nearly 22 hours. He was ready to hit the town for dinner and drinks, but all I was ready for was sleep.

And sleep I did. I was out for nine hours, up for a quick bite to eat at 2 am, then got another five hours of sleep around 7 am. Lt Col F slipped a note under my door at some point; we were being sent back stateside. There would be no downrange flight to the Sandbox. It was disappointing, since we had only been away from home for just over two days. We could possibly pick up another mission on the East Coast, although it was doubtful we'd see Europe again during the trip.

Alert time came, and we were scheduled to fly almost the same leg we had just flown, except in reverse. We even had another night air refueling scheduled, but with a KC-10 instead of the older KC-135. At the end of the 11.5 hour flight, we'd have about 30 hours off in Georgia. By the time we took off from Germany, it was already dark, and it would remain so for our entire flight. It truly would be the longest night, since we were chasing the sun westward.

After crossing the Atlantic, we met the tanker just as planned, perhaps a few minutes late. It appeared out of the darkness like the mother ship from Close Encounters of the Third Kind, adorned with bright lights and flashing beacons. We climbed up to meet the mammoth tanker and topped off with enough fuel to carry us down the eastern seaboard to Savannah.

As we parted ways, the lights of Boston and Cape Cod appeared beneath us. Farther ahead, the tip of Long Island was visible. As we neared, the lights of the island stretched towards the nexus of the City, its collective illumination flooding the heavens with splendor. Philly, Baltimore, DC, and Richmond all showed their luminance as well, but none of these cities could approach the grandeur of the Big Apple's brilliance.

We started our descent over Charleston, South Carolina, and made our approach and landing in Savannah just after midnight local time. After downloading our cargo and gathering our overnight bags, we made it downtown just after 2 am.

And time to sleep yet again.