Spouses’ flight a hit

  • Published
  • By Airman 1st Class Carolyn Viss
  • 7th Bomb Wing Public Affairs
DYESS AIR FORCE BASE, Texas --  Nervous excitement was in the air -- kids were running and playing; pilots, navigators, crew chiefs and loadmasters were ready in their “green bags”; and wives were exchanging glances of timid anticipation.

The spouses of the 317th Airlift Group servicemembers were just about to take a ride in a Dyess C-130, to try to get a glimpse of what their spouses or significant others go through as part of the group’s high-operations tempo.

Lieutenant Col. Lee Flint, 39th Airlift Squadron commander, explained why the 317th thought hosting this event was so important.

“Air Force Instruction 11-401 authorizes us to fly spouse-familiarization sorties in order to ‘enhance understanding of the military members’ role and contribution to the Air Force mission,’” Colonel Flint said. “That really sums up the program. We offer a glimpse of flight operations to give the spouses an idea of what it’s like, how rigorous it is, and why it’s important.”

He spoke to the group before the flight, addressing the spouses, who he said are “critical parts” of the group’s mission.

“Your support makes us able to do what we do,” he said, encapsulating the reason for the day’s activities. “You’re why we do what we do. You’re the first person we think about when we think about national defense. Thank you for putting up with our schedule and supporting us the way you do.”

As the 88 participants broke into small groups to fly in shifts, the loadmasters and crew chiefs briefed the crowd on airsickness and the importance of wearing earplugs.

“And if you didn’t eat breakfast, you might want to grab a donut or something,” Colonel Flint said. “But you might not want to drink orange juice if you want to avoid heartburn,” he added with a laugh. He seemed to be speaking from experience.

The hallway was soon bustling as everyone prepared to head outside.

A few of the spouses seemed nervous to cross the flight line’s entry control point. They glanced around, looking to see if there really were cops out there, ready to pounce if someone crossed the red line in the wrong spot.

Murmurings of “Is this right?” and “Do you think we can keep going?” filled the otherwise silent expanse.

When they’d finally crossed the few yards between the ECP and the plane, the ladies climbed the steep steps, ducked through the low door, and buckled up for all the pre-flight inspections and instructions.

The crew chief explained the concept of the “honey bucket,” a five-gallon bucket that served as the aircraft latrine.

“Hope you all used the bathroom before you boarded,” he said as he laughed in their direction.

Michelle Craven and Jackie Rickman, two crew chief spouses, looked fairly disgusted by the thought of using a bucket for personal relief, with only a thin sheet for privacy.

“I guess the men have it a little easier,” Mrs. Craven remarked.

Nevertheless, they were good sports about the whole ordeal.

“Am I excited?” she asked. “Yeah. Nervous, though. I don’t love to fly.” She laughed. “I’m just doing it to see what it’s like. My husband said it’s loud and bumpy. He got sick once.”

Airsickness wasn’t a bit of a concern for Emanuelle Neumann, however. Her husband is a French exchange pilot for the C-130, and she’s had the opportunity to fly with him as a flight nurse in five countries’ defense aircraft.

“I’ve never gotten sick,” she said, as she adjusted the settings on her digital camera.

As the propellers started, the wait for take-off seemed to last forever.

“This is like the longest drum-roll in history,” Rebecca Keller, wife of a C-130 pilot, remarked. “I sure hope they shut those back doors before we take off.”

The ladies exchanged sticks of gum (“to keep your ears from popping,” Mrs. Rickman explained) just before the plane lurched forward and began taxiing down the runway.

Although the weather was perfect for flying, with no wind and balmy temperatures, tensions ran high. A few of the women never got quite settled. They gripped each others’ arms and tried to talk to each other, straining to hear over the loud propellers.

“These aren’t like commercial flights,” Mrs. Rickman shouted. “These aren’t pressurized cabins with noise barriers and climate controls.”

They were almost a mile high over the ground by then, enjoying a great view of Abilene, West Texas and the base. They filed into the cockpit one at a time for a view of the Big Country before the pilot demonstrated a low approach maneuver.

Although the pass was something very common to any C-130 crew member, it was less than thrilling to more than one woman.

Out came the barf bags. It was like a scene from a la mas class, with heavy breathing and low, comforting murmuring.

The aircrew kept the flight mercifully smooth, but most of the women seemed quite relieved when the flight made its final descent and landed smoothly.

“I don’t think I’ll ever do that again.” Melanie Swartz exclaimed. “I mean, it was a good experience, but ...”

And she left the rest of her sentence to the imagination of the woman behind her, who had gone white and been trembling for most of the flight.

Although the flight had brought mixed emotions from the passengers, most of them agreed with Mrs. Swartz that it was a worthwhile trip.

“This event was a home run,” Colonel Flint said. “The turnout was excellent. The weather couldn't have been better, and the airplane worked great. I am proud of Capt. David Witt, the aircraft commander, and his entire crew for being such great representatives of our combat crews. I also want to thank the maintainers of the 317th AG who launched and recovered our bird. They did an outstanding job.

“We ask a great deal of military members and their families,” Colonel Flint said. “Programs like this one help us raise awareness and understanding. I am proud to be a part of it.”