As I sit in front of my computer to compose my last monthly Chock Talk article for The Combat Edge, I tried to come up with yet another article highlighting maintenance lessons learned from past flight mishaps. Then, I thought, "Hey, since this is your last Chock Talk article, why not take this opportunity to reflect on 18 years as an Air Force maintainer? Surely you have some parting thoughts after 6 years as a flight line hydraulic troop and 12 years as a fighter maintenance officer." So, with the editor's gracious permission, I take this opportunity to reflect on my experiences and bid farewell to my fellow maintainers.
When I enlisted in the Air Force in 1979, I was thrilled about the prospect of working on fighter aircraft. After all, here I was, a 17-year-old kid from the streets of Brooklyn NY, 2 weeks out of high school, and still not shaving. I guess that excitement remained until I arrived at Holloman AFB and had the opportunity to remove and replace my very first Utility Hydraulic System Accessory Manifold. Some of you out there know what I am talking about. My highly starched fatigues soon bore the telltale marks of a hydraulic mechanic, deep red stains that never totally came out, and the smell ... oh, the smell! My spit-shined boots turned a very dull off-black color (you know, that color just before the black dye of the boot is eaten away and the natural color of the boot reveals itself). My hair was soaked with the stuff - it took about a week of washing until it all finally came out. Oh yes, and it was probably a good 110 degrees on the flight line ... and the replacement manifold had to be cannibalized from another jet ... twice the work!
Where was the glory? Where was the "overtime pay" for the 12-hour days and weekends? What did I get myself into? Why didn't I become a finance clerk? Yes, the reality of flight line maintenance sunk in. But my downcast spirit didn't last long. You see, the very next day (12 hours later to be exact), I came back into work and saw something that quickly changed my attitude about flight line maintenance. It happened right in front of my eyes.
That jet I worked on, sweated on, and yes ... even bled on ... was now being strapped on by one of our pilots. That's when it hit me. That lieutenant climbing into the cockpit had total trust and confidence in the work that a young, 17-year-old kid fresh out of high school had performed on his $20 million jet the day before. Wow! There was nowhere else in the Air Force that I was going to have that kind of responsibility. It was at that moment I knew that an Air Force career in aircraft maintenance was my calling.
I write these words not to the senior NCOs and officers out there who have already made aircraft maintenance their profession, but to the young enlisted troops who find themselves asking the very same questions I asked. You, too, have this very special calling should you choose to answer it. You, too, are trusted by each aircrew that steps up to a jet. You must have the integrity it takes to do the job right each and every time. That aircrew and their families have faith in that signature you just put on the aircraft forms. There is probably not another career in the Air Force where a minor mistake can result in catastrophe. Pay errors can be remedied, wrong items received from supply can be turned in, mistakes on performance reports can be corrected. However, a mount bolt mistakenly left off of a critical flight control component cannot be repaired at 30,000 feet. If that component fails, we have a multi-million dollar aircraft destroyed and lives forever shattered. This is the nature of your job. This is why you are a maintenance professional.
I like to believe that I carried this same attitude of maintenance professionalism to the flight line when I was commissioned; at least I hope I did. There are many things I'll miss in aircraft maintenance. The camaraderie with those that I've served with being foremost in my mind. To every senior NCO that has ever worked for me or with me, I thank you. You are the people that make things happen. It was you that I called on at 0400 to get the jets ready for a real-world contingency deployment. It was you that worked the weekend before a major deployment to prep the jets. It was from you that I always heard the words, "No problem, sir! We'll make it happen!" But most of all, it is from you that I learned how to be a maintenance officer. And more so, it is to you that the young troops will look to for guidance and leadership. Set the example; be a pillar of integrity. Accept nothing less than by-the-book performance from your troops. The costs are way too high to accept anything less.
To each and every person wearing a maintenance badge, I bid you farewell and Godspeed.
Major E.T. Moore has applied for early retirement after more than 18 years of dedicated service to his country. Major Moore enlisted in the Air Force in 1979 as an Aircraft Pneudraulic Systems Mechanic where he worked on the F-15 aircraft at Holloman AFB NM. He was commissioned in 1986, completed the Aircraft Maintenance Officer's Course at Chanute AFB IL, and returned to the place he loved most, the flight line. His assignments included: Shaw AFB SC where he was an F-16 Aircraft Maintenance Unit OIC, Kunsan AB ROK where he was a Sortie Generation Flight Commander (and a "Juvat" as he is quick to point out), and Langley AFB VA where he served as an F-16 Maintenance Manager as well as his current capacity as a Flight Safety Officer. Major Moore's monthly contributions to this magazine will be sorely missed, as will his dedication to the men and women of the aircraft maintenance community. His current plans are to remain in the Hampton Roads area.
- Ed.