I am reminded of the story of the three blind men and the elephant, we have so many varied opinions of the AF.

Mine begins with a strata of men whose highest dream was to be a combat pilot. We had to achieve this. No, we needed to achieve it, to not do so would leave a void that could never be filled. On the road to achieving our goal we gladly accepted the Honor System where to lie or cheat rendered one unfit to be a trusted combat wing man. We subscribed to the idiom that to mistreat an airplane either in the air or on the ground and not report it was a cardinal sin. We were the Air Corps.

And now to me. I served under men of vision, men of steel, men who faced terrible odds of survival yet never flinched or wavered. When returning from a mission we had airplanes without engines, unknown mechanical condition, low on fuel, but most important, wounded in all states of trauma that we needed to get immediate medical help for. So, it was necessary to land a group as quickly as possible which required a rapid as possible landing pattern with a tight 360. One new pilot asked the Squadron Commander what would happen if one lost an engine doing this. The SCO's replied that he would probably roll up in a little fiery ball on the ground. We were part of the Air Corps.

OERs for us were one or two written comments like: this officer meets all required qualifications. One either did or one did not, pure and simple. The philosophy was to have a rated officer head each function because of their "can do" attitudes.

The winding down of WW11 was tough, I was married with a baby and moved six times in six months and elected to get out and not make the AF a career. I was out 5 1/2 years, had completed my 5 year reserve commitment when the AF chose to involuntarily recall me for Korea. This hurt bad because I had busted my butt and had a good job and career in the bag and to walk away from it was tough. I was recalled to Willie in 1950 and because of my Construction job experience sent to Air Installations, now Base Civil Engineer. But you can't keep the smell of jet fuel or the noise of the flight line from a true believer and soon I was a Jet Flying Instructor.

Willie!! ATC, Willie was Air Training Command where every man was a Tiger. One of the greatest groups of pilots ever to be assembled. The home of the Acro Jets. morale that kissed the Moon and professionalism that assigned a new Major, West Point grad, to a job as buck instructor until he proved his competence. From hard pattern breaks that banged the unsuspecting passenger's helmet against the canopy to instructing a student on final with 20 gals on the totalizer to do a closed pattern, Willie was all any red blooded pilot could ask for. Every man was indeed a Tiger. This was my AF.

I was invited to go Regular AF and accepted little realizing the full implications. I was some six years behind my contemporaries in both total service and one to two ranks in grade. My new date of rank reflected this.

When I first came in contact with the Army and Navy Academy graduates, I felt inferior. The AF had the right stuff but sorta came across as a poor country cousin. And so I longed for an AF Academy with the dedication and culture it would bring. I am sure the AF Academy has filled a void but I am not sure it elevated the AF to the position I felt it should occupy.

Then there was Chambley, France and F-86s with a nuclear mission. Living in a house trailer next to an airplane with a nluc, counted down to 5 minutes launch. Gunnery at Wheelus, low levels practiced regularly up to the DMZ. Pilots with not enough fuel to get home from their war time target but would have to bail out and hopefully evade. Travel throughout Europe living in the plushest hotels and eating in the best restaurants. Fun at the O'Club that gets me so tangled up remembering that I am laughing so hard I can't talk right now. We had a mission which we were 100% dedicated to and would have performed without question. But watch out when we played, you might get your nose bent. This was my AF.

After Chambley I went to Chaumont and Ops Officer for an F-100 Squadron. Worked for a Wing Co that was unique in his approach and manner of commanding. We flew all 75 F-100, accompanied by the 6 T-33s and the 2 C-47s (the chopper circled the field), 100% of base aircraft past Ramstien. This was my AF.

Off to Armed Forces Staff College, as a Major and to work for John Dunning at George. Gen Dunning had me and most others totally entranced. He called us all together after the death of an F-104 pilot and admonished us not to leave our families unprotected, without life insurance, in case of our deaths. He chided us that the only his wife could make a living in case of his death was flat on her back, I was a Major F-100 Squadron at George. When I took over my First shirt, immediately after the Change of Command Ceremony asked to speak to me. In privacy he told me he was the best First Sgt in the wing and he would give me the best, trouble free, group of enlisted men in the Wing. But Sir, I run the men. If you cannot agree to this please help me find another job. I agreed, he produced...... This was my AF.

Then I volunteered for a classified project in Viet Nam that didn't materialize. But my group of 10 became the first AF PCS to Nam. Our charter was to teach the Vietnamese to do it. We did not achieve our objective and you all know this story well. This was my AF, one who held its head high and conducted itself as warriors equal to any in history.

My AF first put me in a situation to sink or swim, no blubbering, you proudly served with men from all walks of life who placed country before self. My AF struggled though the Johnson days(Post WW11) when it was cut to the bone and reinvigorated for Korea.

If I think of my life without the AF I can count on my two hands the people outside of my family that I really, really respect. If I think of the AF, I can't see the forest for the trees. There are so many they blot out the sun. Did you gather I love the AF? This is my AF.

Gene Mc Cutchan Red Marker62-67