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“One-Niner, Chicken-man Six India, go ahead.”
“Chicken-man Six, could you have Band-Aid Six meet us when we arrive in about thirty mikes? Over.”
With some excitement in his voice, he asked, “One-Niner, do you need an ambulance on standby? Over.”
“Chicken-man Six, that is a negative. Just Band-Aid Six. Over.”
“One-Niner, roger, understood. Wilco.”
“Chicken-man One-Niner out.”
Addressing the crew, who were awake now, I said, “Guys, when we land, we’re all going to see Doc. We’re over a hundred and sixty hours for the month. Don’t bullshit him, but we all need some sleep.”
When we landed, not only was Doc—Band-Aid Six—standing there, but so were Major Saunders and the ops officer with the maintenance officer and my flight logs, the copilot’s flight logs and the aircraft log. Major Saunders started the conversation as the aircraft engine and main rotor wound down.
“What’s up, Mr. Cory?” This might not be good. He’d called me Mr. Cory.
“Sir, me and my crew are over a hundred and sixty hours for the past thirty days. We just flew back with all of us, me and the copilot, falling asleep at the same time. Sir, we need some sleep. I’m asking for a couple of days’ downtime.”
He looked away at the ground. I could see his mind spinning. Turning to the Doc, he said, “Doc, look at them and get back to me.”
“Sir, I don’t have to look at them. I can see from just watching them that they’re in sleep deprivation, just like the other crews today.” What? What other crews today?
The ops officer spoke up without being asked.
“Sir, Mr. Cory is over the one hundred and sixty hours for the past thirty days. Only one other pilot has him beat, and he’s now down for a three-day rest. The other two are just behind Mr. Cory. We’re running out of pilots, sir.” I couldn’t tell if he was pleading my case or trying to get me more hours. Then the maintenance officer jumped in, and honestly he looked more tired than us as the assistant maintenance officer hadn’t returned from the hospital.
“Sir, this aircraft has been going hard for the past thirty days. We have an overdue hundred-hour inspection. We really need to ground it for a day or two.” I thought he was supporting me. We were all still standing around the aircraft with the major thinking.
“How much time do you need for the hundred-hour inspection?” he asked the maintenance officer.
“I can get it in tomorrow afternoon and have it back up the day after, sometime in the morning,” the maintenance officer responded.
“Dan, if I give you two days, would that be sufficient?” the CO asked me.
“Sir, if I can have one day just to sleep all day and night, I’ll be good.”
The major asked, “Doc, would that be sufficient?”
“If he gets to bed and stays there undisturbed and gets at least fourteen hours of sleep—no drinking, no reading, no writing letters, but fourteen hours of sleep—then I will clear him,” Doc said, but I could tell he wasn’t happy.
“Dan, get to bed. You and your crew are grounded for the next twenty-four hours. No drinking, no letter writing, no reading. Your crew chief won’t pull the hundred-hour inspection, but maintenance will have someone take care of it.” Addressing the maintenance officer and the ops officer, he added, “I want to see you two in my office with everyone’s flight times and with aircraft status. Thirty minutes.” And he walked off.
“Hey, Doc, what’s going on?” I asked as we gathered our stuff and started to leave the Chicken Pen.
“You’re not the first today to come in and report falling asleep. Three other crews came in earlier and the old man had to ground them. He put each of them down for three days. You just broke the camel’s back. Tomorrow we’ll have some more, I’m sure, coming in and reporting the same thing. We need some downtime for both the crews and the aircraft. Taking only one day, you helped him out, but you need to get to bed.” He walked off, shaking his head.
I climbed into bed and slept for twelve hours. When I woke, everything was strangely quiet. During the night, the CO had gotten with the battalion commander and explained the situation. Battalion ordered us to stand down for forty-eight hours, which would start the clock over on the thirty-day rule. Once the CO got that, he and the XO went around and informed the leadership that everything was to remain
quiet in the company area for the next twenty-four hours. The club was closed and no one complained. There were to be no volleyball games, no card playing, and no drinking. Maintenance was working, but it was located at the Chicken Pen, so where the flight crews slept, we couldn’t hear that noise. Maintenance was happy because now they could work on aircraft and get things done without being rushed. This down period made a world of difference in our morale.
Chapter 31
Stand Down
As I lay on my stomach in bed, half-asleep, the only sound was my fan quietly moving the air around my mosquito net. There were no other sounds, not even our rooster crowing, but the sun was already up. Damn, I must have slept through the night. Surprised I didn’t hear other crews waking up. Must have been more tired than I thought. Groping on the floor for my watch, I managed to find it. Crap, it’s 0930. I’d slept twelve hours and still felt like I’d been dragged through a knothole backwards. Crawling out from under the mosquito net, I heard snoring coming from elsewhere in the hooch. In my flippy-flops and boxer shorts, I headed for the company piss tubes. Hooch maids won’t be here yet, so can’t embarrass them. Going outside, I noticed that there wasn’t a lot of activity in the company area. As I was relieving myself, the company clerk walked by.
“Morning, Mr. Cory,” he said. “Nice day for a stand-down.”
