Friday, August 8, 2008

Posted by J. K.

When I enlisted in the US Air Force my career options were limited. I chose jet engine mechanic. After completing basic training at Sampson AFB in New York State I was then assigned to Chanute AFB in Rantoul, IL for my technical training. During the course of training one of the NCO instructors observed me explaining the accessory section of a J-47 engine to a classmate. He later asked me if I would like to be an instructor. My first response was no.

After thinking over the opportunity, I went back to him and talked more about it. After that conversation I decided that I would give it a try. Apparently he saw something in me that I did not know about. At the time I did not know anything about power other than the power that comes with position. I used it unmercifully. As I look back on it, I was a tyrant. I had one more stripe than any of the students. You guessed it, I outranked them and I took unfair advantage of that. It was a learning experience.

I remember one class that was particularly unruly. They were required to do the GI party earlier than usual. Hey, if you don't want to learn, then we will let you do something you will have to do anyway.

That was my first taste of being an instructor. I have found out ways to do that from that time on. I like to think that I have mellowed since then. The difference, as far as I can tell, is the discovery of my personal power.

All through my life I have found myself making decisions to be teaching others. It is very rewarding to help others discover things they knew, but were unaware of their knowledge. I was beginning to lay the foundation so that I could discover the concepts of ....

Serve With Integrity! Care About Those You Serve! Share The Love In Your Heart!

1 comment:

  1. Jack,

    I'm sure your correspondence helped give her, if even small, some measure of closure.

    I lost my first cousin, my father's twin brother's son, in a helicopter in Viet Nam.

    I really don't know much facts about his death, only that he was on his way home, orders in hand, to the States and was being transported to an airbase to be flown stateside.

    The chopper was shot down by ground fire. I don't know how many others were on board or if they too died or survived.

    My uncle was forthcoming about it - both he and my father were tight-lipped out their own military service during WWII. I can only assume they could never talk about the horrors they may have witnessed.