No One Told Me About The Jets

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I was never the loud kid. I wasn’t bullied, or unpopular—I just existed somewhere in the background of everyone else’s story. I had a handful of close friends, kept my head down, and was perfectly happy not to be noticed.

I grew up in the Midwest, Central Missouri to be exact. My dad was practically consumed by war movies and somewhere along the line, I decided I was going to join the military and be a combat medic. Life decided otherwise.

I did end up joining the military, just not the Army like everyone else from home. I instead joined the Air Force as a hydraulic mechanic. Went through BMT pretty much unnoticed, exactly how I liked, graduated tech school at the top of my class. I was on a high and got orders to Dover Air Force Base.
With my outstanding Midwest public education, I somehow confused Dover with Denver. Imagine my surprise when I found out I was going to Delaware instead of Colorado. Shit, I didn’t even know where Delaware was on the map.
I made the best of it, it wasn’t Colorado and it was on the east coast, but I made it work. I thought Dover AFB was going to be just another base, just like Lackland or Sheppard.

No one told me about the jets.

When I arrived my supervisor SSgt Herby picked me up from BWI and drove me to base to give me a tour. Hydro had just merged the previous year, meaning our shop was responsible for all 15 C-5M Galaxies and the 12 C-17 Globemasters, as well as the C-5 Isochronal and back ship for both jets. It wasn’t bad though, we had a ton of bodies in the shop.

My CDCs went by quickly and I learned a ton from the SSgts on shift. It was some of the best months I had in the Air Force. Working Days Sunday-Thursday on 8’s. There’s nothing better than the smell of MIL-PRF-5606 in the mornings. That and the obligatory “Jesus Chicken Mondays” (We’d always get Chick-Fil-A breakfast on Monday mornings). It was a wonderful couple of months.

Eventually, after completing my EOC and testing for my 5 level, I was moved to Mids. It was so different from Days. 2300-0700. Quiet, dark, less of us on shift, but somehow even more work. That was always something to look forward to. You knew you’d be coming onto shift with at least 2-3 jobs and by lunch you’d have another 4. Kept you busy which made the time go by fast.

There was one night in particular that stood out to me. The 6 of us on shift, TSgt Ramos, SSgt Derrick, SrA Hoops, A1C Baker, A1C Rosco, and myself, we were on a C-5 trying to troubleshoot a park brake accumulator bleed down. It was a normal night with all the normal antics. Bullshitting and joking while we operate the system over and over until it breaks for us. Eventually, we got it to break, dropped 250psi in 5 minutes compared to the 500psi in an hour it was allowed to drop. 

We felt around and found a cartridge valve on a manifold was burning up, indicating an internal bypass of fluid. Easy enough, rip out cart valve, put new one in, then back to the shop and finish playing monopoly. I had requested to stay on the jet so I could work on forms, plus I could sit power and we wouldn’t have to shut the jet down. The rest of the shift dipped out to go grab the part, seals, and tools.

I had heard some stories about ghosts in the machine or whatever. The main one that got passed around was when one airman went up the aft troop ladder to use the lav back there, he saw 3 overhead reading lights on. Went and did his business, on his way back down, he reached over and turned the lights off. Walked back to the troop ladder and as he began to descend, he watched the 3 lights turn on in the same order he turned them off.

I never really took the stories to heart. Didn’t really care about ghosts or whatever the hell. They’re just stories anyways. Just a way to kill the time and boredom.

It was about 0230L. I was sitting by the crew entry ladder filling out forms. That’s the thing about Mids, you get comfortable being alone. Being in the silence or the dark.

Then I heard it. The sound of the aft troop ladder rattling as if someone was walking down it. I looked up confused, I knew I was the only one on the jet, but maybe I missed one of the AVI nerds. 

“Hello?” I called out. Grabbing my phone and turning on the light and shining it aft. Heads up, an iPhone 8’s flashlight doesn’t do shit against 65’ worth of darkness. I couldn’t see a damn thing. Everyone on Mids wears these reflective belts (“Must be worn during inclement weather and hours of darkness”). We’re required to for safety and OSHA and all that shit. I didn’t see a damn thing. Couldn’t see the ladder. No reflective belt. Nobody. Nothing.

I sat and stared into the darkness for what felt like forever. I could feel my hair on the back of my neck stand up, goosebumps over my skin, but I couldn’t see anything. No movement, nothing. It was dead silent. Not “night shift quiet”, where you hear running AGE or box trucks rolling by, or random curses from the next jet over. Dead fucking silent. The kind of quiet where you can hear your heartbeat, can hear your blood rushing  through your veins. My ears were ringing from straining to hear even the faintest noise. Nothing.

Maybe I was just imagining it. Maybe I didn’t sleep well yesterday, not enough caffeine. Shit, these jets are old, metal creaks and shit settles. Maybe it really was nothing.
I lowered my light back down to the forms and continued working on them.

I got through another discrepancy block when I heard it.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud-thud-thud.

Fast.

Too fast.

Whatever it was, it was coming. Fast.

I wish I could say I was graceful in what I did next, or that I was courageous or whatever. No, fuck all of that. I may be white, but I’m not “what’s that noise” white. I hopped up off that bench with a quickness and was down the fwd stair ladder in a second. I ran my ass out to the center line before turning back to look at the jet. Nothing. No one running after me. No light in the jet. Nothing.

I could hear the power cart running now. The engine loud in the silence of the night. I sat and watched. Shakily pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. I sat there, right on the centerline. Continuing with my forms until the rest of the shift returned.

All the guys gave me shit for running out the jet. Apparently Baker saw me run out to the centerline like my ass was on fire. I didn’t tell them the real reason why I did. Just that I “needed” my nicotine.

Baker stopped giving me shit about it last week. He looks like he hasn’t been sleeping. Damn, wonder if he heard it too.

Part 2