Primary Wisdom , livre ebook

Outskirts Press - Thomas Kolp

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

59 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

Ensign Tom Rudd looks at himself in the mirror on a pivotal morning of his career and his life. He is a student in the midst of Navy Pilot training in, around, and over Pensacola, Florida. As his own most severe critic, he considers his recent past and endures a brutally honest self evaluation. Challenge, tragedy and some triumph have shaped the man he observes. Does Tom like who he sees, and can he become the upstanding man he so desperately strives to be? To be or not to be? That is his question and perhaps the question for all of us.

Sujets

Military

War

Fiction

Informations

Publié par	Outskirts Press
Date de parution	08 février 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781977252418
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0500€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

-->

Primary Wisdom All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2022 Thomas Kolp v2.0
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.
This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Outskirts Press, Inc. http://www.outskirtspress.com
ISBN: 978-1-9772-5241-8
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021922115
Cover Illustration by Larry Whitler © 2022 Outskirts Press, Inc. All rights reserved - used with permission.
Outskirts Press and the “OP” logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1: Completion
Chapter 2: Viper
Chapter 3: Tomfoolery
Chapter 4: VT-3
Chapter 5: Number 19
Chapter 6: ASDO
Chapter 7: Lucky Me
Chapter 8: A PhD
Chapter 9: Know it all?
Chapter 10: Up, Up We Go
Chapter 11: Debrief
Chapter 12: Her Idea
Chapter 13: Overalls
Chapter 14: Interpretation
Chapter 15: Solo
Chapter 16: Precision
Chapter 17: Court Date
Chapter 18: A Date
Chapter 19: Now What?
Chapter 20: Johnni
Chapter 21: The Town
Chapter 22: Bye Bye
Chapter 23: Lost in Space
Chapter 24: Leaving The Town
Chapter 25: Lights
Chapter 26: Constant Change
Chapter 27: Proper Form
Chapter 28: Graduation
PROLOGUE
I write this book in honor of the field general and the army nurse, the senator and the town priest, and for all of the teachers, coaches, and volunteers who possess the courage and resolve to selflessly serve others for at least one day.

“The end is the beginning; the beginning the end, and neither is either.”
—Robert Ruhl
MILITARY OFFICER DESIGNATIONS Pay Grade U.S. Navy U.S. Marine Corps O-1 Ensign, ENS Second Lieutenant, 2ndLT O-2 Lieutenant Junior Grade, LTJG First Lieutenant, 1stLT O-3 Lieutenant, LT Captain, CPT O-4 Lieutenant Commander, LCDR Major, MAJ O-5 Commander, CDR Lieutenant Colonel, LTCOL O-6 Captain, CPT Colonel, COL O-7 Rear Admiral, RADM 1 Star Brigadier General, BGEN O-8 RADM Upper Half, RADM 2 Stars Major General, MAJGEN O-9 Vice Admiral, VADM 3 Stars Lieutenant General, LTGEN O-10 Admiral, ADM 4 Stars General, GEN
CHAPTER 1
COMPLETION
“Wake up, Ruddster, it’s graduation day,” Marwinn barked as he rocked my bed with his knee.
I managed to open my eyes to a full-blown squint.
“No thanks, last duty, last night, and last call at Trader Jon’s” was my groggy response.
“Yeah, I know, like I didn’t hear you bumble in and bounce off a few walls last night at about 2 a.m.”
“Pound sand, Marwinn, I’m not getting up. Let me know, though, if there are any babes on base. Have fun at work… ” I think I managed to croak.
“Okay, numb nuts, suit yourself.”
Mark Marwinn was my best friend and complete confidant. We were now roommates in a two-bedroom apartment near Pensacola Beach. We went to and through the University of Colorado together via Navy ROTC. We studied, cheated, and completely trusted each other as only brotherly criminals could. There still exists a very real bond and honor amongst us today, some twenty years later. No request by either of us would go unconsidered. I am lucky and grateful for his unwavering friendship and understanding.
I think I heard Marwinn say, “All right, this is your last chance, Rudd. I’m leaving in fifteen minutes to go to the selection brief. Would you like to come or should I just cover for you, AGAIN?”
The SELECTION brief? What the fah? Still foggy. The list doesn’t come out until 1500, and the brief was just before that. Brain confusion, head pain.
I uttered, “The list?”
Mark continued to harass me. “Yeah, the new skipper changed the brief to 0800, not that you have ever noticed or cared enough to give one and a half shits about anything, much less your career,” replied Marwinn as he sarcastically chomped on toast or more likely an English muffin.
New COs, short for Commanding Officers, the bane of my existence. They will always change things just for the sake of change. As if to ensure you know, “There’s a new sheriff in town, and I think it’s best you boys and girls play by my new sheriff rules”…motherfucking, fuck-faced dickheads, I solemnly thought to myself.
I was still fuzzy, but the list and the selection brief were big deals. The list was what we most cared about. It determined one’s fate after completion of the U.S. Navy’s Primary Flight Training. First and foremost, your name on the list meant you passed and graduated the second phase of Navy Flight School. It took all of my being to set aside my immaturity and propensity to drink too much beer to focus enough to pass. I spent many restless nights studying and working up the courage to succeed and present myself with the intelligence, organization, and confidence necessary to complete the syllabus. I was humbled.
Furthermore, the list indicates your path after Primary Flight Training. Simply, based on one’s grades in “Primary” and the “Needs of the Navy and Marine Corps” (all Marine Corps pilots are required to earn Navy Wings), one would be selected to continue flight training for jets, E-2/C-2s, props, or helicopters. Coast Guard pilots also earn their wings via the Navy.
Jets: Obvious. F-14s, F-18s, S-3s, A-6s…missile-, bomb-, bullet-, and torpedo-laden aircraft carrier-based bad asses.
Props: Relatively uncool land-based P3s and C130s… surveillance and cargo machines. Per-diem extra cash collectors for their pilots though.
Helos: The much feared, truly needed, and wrongfully maligned helicopters of the U.S. Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard.
E-2/C-2s get an honorable hooray as other. E-2 Hawkeye guys kick ass. They take tons of guff for the airplane they fly; that is an ugly twin engine turbo-prop with a large AWACS type radar dome on top of the airplane. They then adeptly slam this miserably yawing, huge twin propeller-driven machine onto the deck of a pitching ship with alacrity. Kick unrecognized ass! The C-2 guys do the same, except they don’t stay on the aircraft carrier for six months (more like a day or two at the most) and they don’t have that annoying reconnaissance radome on top of their aircraft. We navy folks call this mail, parts, and cargo delivery aircraft the “Cod.”
Somehow, the words selection and graduation forced me out of bed. I saw my alarm clock, 0716, crap. I moved to the bathroom in a fog. I peed. I then moved to the sink and looked at myself in the mirror with disdain, true self-hate. I had been here before after too many beers. I noticed my headache. I then goofed with my way-too-short sandy brown hair as if it mattered. I of course checked the two scars on my face, and disgustedly noticed my red, white, and blue patriotic eyes. I squeezed some paste onto my toothbrush and hit the vacant spot where there used to be a tooth. Ooh, tender.
I recalled the day I lost that tooth. It was a Friday and a graduation day.
CHAPTER 2
VIPER
We had just completed Aviation Indoctrination. Say, that rhymes. Here, I met my peers. After many graduations and commissioning ceremonies, the Navy, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard assembles its officers selected to operate its aircraft and their associated systems. Some of us would become pilots and some naval flight officers or NFOs. NFOs are bombardiers, navigators, and mission specialists who deliver the goods and operate integral aircraft functions and systems. We came from all avenues. Some had the luxury of a degree from the vaunted United States Naval Academy. Some of us came from ROTC, some from AOCS, and a few had been prior-enlisted and then managed to complete college and become an officer. Then, through various programs, these chosen sweeties got a chance to fly for the Navy or Marine Corps. We all held the dreams and promise of Navy Wings. Take a guess as to which officers I admire most.
Back then, I assumed that the “Best of the Best” came from the academy. They generally were great high school students, community volunteers, and athletes, and they proudly and properly earned their appointments to the USNA. I say appointments because you literally have to be recommended and then appointed through a competitive process to a US Service Academy by a United States congressman, senator, vice president, or the president himself. These specially chosen underclassmen then go on to earn an Ivy League-worthy education. I was in ROTC in college, a Reserve Officer Training Corps type. Just the name with Reserve in it makes you feel like a second-rate turd. But, nonetheless, the program provides scholarships for students and officers to the military through a litany of U.S. universities. The Aviation Officer Candidate School (AOCS) also sent officers to the flight program. These idiots paid for their own college degree and then joined the Navy or USMC afterward. They then endured several months of hell just to try to become an officer and hopefully a pilot. These were the Richard Gere types as in An Officer and a Gentleman . I just called them Dicks as this is short for Richards. Finally, the Missies (short for miscellaneous officers) rounded out the group. These were the officers who were prior-enlisted personnel, former ship drivers, admirals’ assistants, and, in general, all-around pains in all asses with too long and exhausting stories to hear or tell.
As for the guess…back then I was too arrogant to truly care, but as