05/31/2022
Some else’s post but love it -
He stood at the edge of the ramp, gazing years back in time.
He took a step forward, then another. It was then, he heard the whine of an APU door swinging open. Then the unmistakable sound of the small turbine spooling up. Then the roar of the APU as it went from starting to full run.
He looked and saw row after row of his planes and ones like his. He began to tick off in his mind the steps to preform the daily inspection.
Check the tires.
Lower the flaps.
Wipe down the flap tracks.
Open the HSC.
Check the hydraulic reservoirs.
Check the NAN-2 Bottle.
It all came flooding back. The smells, the sun on his neck, the tarmac under his feet. He began to walk toward plane number 3. Suddenly he became aware he was carrying a step ladder. He didn’t have it before, but it was like it had always been in his hand.
He reached the wing. Instinctively, he looked up. He avoided the prop arc and smelled for fuel. None, no drips. That was good. He reached the wing root, ducked slightly and was under the HSC. He popped the latch handle and when he did, he realized, even though he was stooped over, his back didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt in fact. Odd.
He opened the HSC hatch, set the ladder and climbed up. He reached for a flashlight… how long hand that light been on his hip? He turned it on and looked around. The reservoirs were topped off. NAN-2 bottle at 3200psi. Looking around he checked for hydraulic fluid. He could smell it, but that was somewhat normal.
He climbed down, folded up the ladder and laid it down. He closed the HSC. When he did this, he noticed for the first time the boarding ladder was down.
Walking out from under the fuselage, he look up the ladder. The door was open. He climbed slowly. He wondered who was on board? As he stepped into the fuselage it was there. That old familiar smell. Incredible how it came rushing at him. Almost like a long lost friend. He drew a deep breath, held it and then let it out slowly.
He looked right and saw the galley and bunk area. Then left. His eye caught the sonobouy tubes in the floor, then the sonobouy rack. Across from that, the port observer seat. Further in, he could see sensor 1 and 2 positions. After some electronic racks, he saw sensor 3.
He took a step inside and suddenly began to feel dizzy. He fell forward and then every thing went black…
Then, he was awake, in his bed, in his bedroom. He was home and forty years way from working on or walking on to a P-3. He missed the old girl. To be maintaining that beauty again. To have a purpose, a responsibility to an airframe and to the crew that flew her.
Alas, those days are gone. All of his birds are gone as are most of their sisters. The world had moved on and passed them both by. Just as sure as the sea flows and the clouds drift by, time has marched on, leaving them both behind.
But then he smiled. Time had moved on and his country has survived. Partly because of him and those like him. The job they had done to keep’em flying. He could be proud of that, right? You bet he could. He was proud and he was proud to have served with so many fine people. Together, they had lived the life. At least for a while.
Now dreams would have to suffice.
