November was a busy month in the squadron and I soon found myself back on the road on another trip. With a new crew and a new jet, I was soon flying across the country eastbound. It was night when we arrived at an airbase in the Garden State and my co-pilot was flying the aircraft as we were vectored for the ILS approach. My co-pilot’s approach and landing were uneventful, and we taxied to the ramp. We were scheduled for an overnight stay before we’d fly out for Germany the next day.
After engine shutdown, one of my crew discovered that we had struck several small birds during our arrival. Two bird strikes were visible on the fuselage, but a third bird impacted our number two engine nacelle and possibly had been ingested by the engine. Maintenance would have to inspect the engine carefully to determine if any internal damage was noted, but they’d have plenty of time to do so while we were in crew rest. We soon found ourselves at a hotel off-base, at the edge of a small town. It was late, so little was open besides a convenience store and a Domino’s Pizza place, so most of us wasted no time in getting some sleep.
The next day, I called to check on our aircraft. Maintenance had found no damage with the engine, but changes in our mission now required us to slip our departure by two days. With 48 hours off in New Jersey, we began planning what to do with our newfound freedom. New York City was within reach to the north, but Philadelphia was closer. I started calling around, looking for some wheels. None of the local rental car outlets had any available cars, and none of the crew possessed a government drivers’ license required to check out a government vehicle. Taxi service to Philly was outrageously expensive and we were too far from the closest rail station as well. We were stuck in a flyspeck town in the Garden State with no means to go anywhere. As if to add misery to our pain, the area experienced a power outage, plunging the hotel and all nearby businesses into darkness. We had to get away.
A few of us splurged for a cab to the closet sports bar to watch Monday Night Football, an adventure that set us back $60 round trip to a nearby town just off the Interstate. It was nice to get away, at least for a night, but the excessive cab fares kept us closer to our hotel for the rest of our stay. At least there was a great Italian restaurant a few blocks from our hotel and a package store across the street, so it wasn’t too bad. But we were more than ready to leave at the end of our stay. Our dreams of touring the eastern seaboard had been crushed, so we were ready to reach Germany and make our way downrange for the remainder of our mission.
The dawn of our last day in Jersey revealed a soggy mess; low sullen clouds and a grim veil of mist painted the landscape a morose shade of gray, a scene reminiscent of fall back home in the Pacific Northwest. Our alert came late that afternoon, springing us from our 1970s era hotel. The weather wasn’t looking great on the other side of the pond either, but we were determined not to spend another night in Jersey. We added a little extra fuel for a potential divert and prepared to depart.
We had one last hurdle to overcome. Our takeoff was scheduled for sunset, at the peak of the local bird activity period. Birds generally flock within an hour of sunrise or sunset, so we had to obtain special permission to takeoff during this period. We sat in our seats, ready to start engines, while the command post contacted the appropriate waiver authority to allow us to depart. I couldn’t imagine going back to our dismal rooms for another night of monotony.
Fortunately, we eventually gained approval to depart. We started up, taxied out, and lined up on the runway. Our stay in the Garden State was soon behind us.
