I joined the Army because the Air Force had a waiting list for Pilots and my draft number was so low that I feared that I'd wind up as cannon fodder either in the Marines or Army. By joining, I had a pre-determined specialty skill that required no additional training. Somehow, that was valuable to the Army.

I took basic training at Fort Dix NJ (now a federal penitentiary). A fun filled, action packed six weeks of testing my patience as well as my physical strength. I flew through the course, mostly due to the fact that for some uncanny reason, both of my drill instructors liked me.

First off, I performed simple tasks (run that mile) and did it well. That helped but I honestly believe that these two gentlemen, whose names I cannot recall, were first and foremost, caring individuals.

I had done EVERYTHING wrong in the book coming to training. I drove my personal vehicle, brought my guitar, and civilian clothes. I parked the car, along with the other stuff, just off base in Wrightstown NJ (another fun filled place) and took a bus to the training facility just in time to be seen getting off "my own special bus" to arrive by the DI's and the rest of the cadre.

An inauspicious beginning.

About midway through the course, one of the DI's went to my car, got my stuff, and brought it back to his room in the barracks. I was allowed to go play the guitar, etc., in his room.

Things like that don't happen everyday.

It continued.

I graduated as the "honor" trainee and was chosen to speak in front of the Commanding General and the new incoming class. I thought it was kind of cool UNTIL I got back to the barracks. 

"What the hell were you thinking" was the question. I had worn the wrong uniform with improper insignia on it, essentially because I was stupid and didn't know any better.

I did, however, learn that just because someone had great rank, that didn't mean they weren't interested in you as an individual. I got "additional" training, personalized so that I understood the uniform and how it was to be worn. 

Lucky me.

Then, while all of my classmates were getting their orders, most being assigned to an AIT or Advanced Individual Training, I sat there wondering what was going on. I did not expect to go to DINFOS since they gave three stripes for knowing how to use a microphone to begin with, so I just figured that I was going to go to Vietnam or Korea to be a staff announcer/news reader for AFRTS.

Didn't happen.

So there I was, painting rocks with white paint, having the time of my life and getting more friendly with a 20 pound bag of potatoes than I really ever wanted.

About a week in (I spent a year there one week!), this guy came in, barked me to attention, and told me that "The General" wanted me in his office.

Oh fun, more classes on how to dress in the Army.

So I get to the office, cool my heels for a while as I was looked at with VERY suspicious eyes, by all the office staff. Suddenly, a Captain came out and pointed to the open office door and I was ushered into the inner sanctum.

"Think you're special do ya son?" asked the General. I had nothing to say and I'd already learned that when you had nothing to say, don't say anything.

"Do you have some special skill I don't know about?" He asked. I was going to tell him that I had some new skillsets with paint and potatoes, but I left that out and said, "No sir, I don't think so sir."

"Well, it seems you do and the Air Force WANTS you." Apparently, that half hour with an Air Force Recruiter paid off and they realized that someone who could fly airplanes was worth more than one more motormouth on the radio.

I was then sent, via the Generals car, to "get your stuff and get out." I was sent, literally, across the street to McGuire Air Force Base where I got to meet a newly minted Colonel who thought his "chickens" were better than everyone else's.

Yes, it is true, I learned to fly from John Stanley back home when I was 14 and I held, among other things, a dual engine complex aircraft rating, something of great interest to this new Colonel. (I knew he was a new Colonel because he told me that he'd recently been recognized as a giant talent and thusly promoted.)

In short order, and I mean incredibly short order, I was wearing an Officer uniform, taught how to properly wear that, and sent on a jet to jet training. I learned to fly in a T-38 Talon at San Antonio Texas, and then sent BACK to McGuire AFB for C-141 training, having proven that the air gods would be happier if I took my sub-fighter-par eyesight somewhere else.

Now, this would all be funny EXCECPT, in those days, "training" on a C-141 was insane (in my opinion). There were three or four "simulators" in the United States, ONE was at McGuire AFB, and it was broken. Not sure if it ever got fixed.

So training became, "sit your ass in that right hand seat, shut up and pay attention....and don't touch anything unless I tell you to...and let's do that in nice Air Force Style!"

Yup, OJT baby, on the job training. And I learned from some great teachers. However, for those of you who see flight school as an organized mission of reading, writing and arithmetic, would be incorrect.

I joined the 438 MAW (Military Airlift Wing)....not Mama Scotts Way. I flew right seat in a C-41 around the world for nearly six months when someone said, "move over there," you've got this now.

That was it. I had "graduated" and was now an Air Force Pilot in Command. I later learned that being a Command Pilot was an entirely different thing.

So this went on with missions that I've written many times about and frankly, they're not the point of THIS conversation. 

I learned a lot in the year and a half or so that I was actively flying. I got to see the world and most of the awful, terrible things in it. From a Turkish Jail to a Vietnam POW, it was everything they promised it would be.....I'd seen it all, and I was JUST 20 years old.

But I had paid attention and I had learned. Those lessons have followed me throughout my life and my seven decades. SERVICE to others, for others, is the primary mission of life and thus I've been serving in every capacity I could find, for all of these years.

Through 11, now 12 businesses that I've owned, I've learned that the real boss is the customer, not me. Command is not about me, it's about MY responsibility to the people who work for me and the customers we ALL serve.

And thus it is, I come here today, to tell you one simple thing. Thank you for allowing us to serve you and your family. It is an honor and a privilege to do so and IF, somehow, we make a mistake, PLEASE call me personally, and I'll help get it fixed.

Jack out. ..... BTW, Sophie says Thank You as well.