I have to say it was a good day

1-6-11

When working this hard in such extreme conditions, sleep is rendered sacred.  I have an unusual two days off per week, never working more than three days in a row.  On those days off, I will hibernate between 10 and 13.5 hours straight.  Tuesday was about 12.  Last night was about a third of that.  But the comatose hours will continue to carry over until I can sleep in again Saturday.

I snoozed awhile, up in time to shower, eat, brush my teeth and get outfitted in my work gear before taking a Delta to Pegasus Field.  This is the most uncommon of daily agendas.  I usually eat too quickly, forget showering altogether, and postpone brushing my teeth, often until after lunch.  Essentially, this was an unprecedented and excellent start to my day.

People are awake during the day and sleep at night.  Rightfully so.  And of course, pilots are too.  Thus, there is far less work to be completed for us during the night shift at the airfield.  We usually service approximately three flights, either leaving or returning.  The remaining solid hours of “work” are well suited for Monopoly, except on C-17 days.

A few weeks ago, the weather was above freezing one late afternoon and an off-angle take off by the C-17 left a four inch rut in the fragile, melting runway.  A week of runway repairs with no intercontinental flights and no freshies (fruits and vegetables) forced airfield officials to move the arrival time to about 4am.  Yes, we get to service the big, expensive aircraft again.  The current day crew may have worked three or four C-17 flights, whereas when we were on days we serviced maybe 20 flights, and now get them on nights. 

Once airborne out of Christchurch, NZ, the C-17’s cargo manifest is sent our way and we hold a service order briefing; delegating tasks and accounting for the inevitable deviations that will happen.  On the Delta ride to the airstrip, I asked Ray if I could join him and Paul, the Airfield Supervisor, at the back of the plan during the turn.  Ray is MC1, the authority for all of cargo and passenger services on the ramp.  He obliged, perhaps in humility of losing in Monopoly the day before.



Approaching a C-130 in soft snow.



With the slow pace of the night and taking into account my interest in the official paperwork of flights, Ray showed me how to complete the paperwork for one of the C-130 field camp flights, then once it cancelled due to weather, he asked me to complete the business at the back of the aircraft alone.  This may sound a little embellished, and while most people in my position could complete this, they don’t.  It was like dad let me drive the car all by myself for the first time.  Really not a big deal, but it was quite a privilege for me.

I like operating loaders.  Driving big vehicles near expensive aircraft is a thrill.  I find myself proficient at it but today was able to see the process from another viewpoint.  Plus, one feels pretty important standing on the ramp of an awesome aerial machine.



Here I am loading a pallet onto a C-17.



The entire night people were asking each other how far the seventeen would fly before turning around due to weather.  It can fly here and back without refueling, and the weather was worsening quickly.  If it lands, the fuels comes out of our budget, however if it boomerangs, the Air Force has to pick up the $150,000 fuel tab.  As you can guess from what I’ve written, it landed, but in a blizzard.  Everything went into hyper drive to turn the aircraft.

There were 14 full size pallets between 2 and 8 thousand pounds each.  What’s the fastest way to herd cattle?  Slowly.  We worked quickly, but with no rushing. 

One of the Air Force loadmasters asked me about the pallet contents.  What was visible was Speights, Tui and Guinness, Frosty Boy and USPS boxes.  The loadmaster commented on landing in a blizzard to deliver beer, ice cream and mail.  “The essentials”, I replied.  He enjoyed that.



Karl and Deliverance "negotiating" the sled movement in
soft snow.



The pilots wanted to get out of there ASAP.  They cancelled the upload and wanted to take only 49 of the 55 scheduled departing passengers because installing additional seating was very time-costly.  All luggage was palletized together and removing 6 passengers’ items from a three ton bin was to take even longer than adding seating.  They agreed to take them all. Our cargo office was “insistent” that science samples be included as well.  Loadmasters rolled their eyes collectively, but agreed to it.  At that time they were below flight minimums for weather regulations.

My position in the middle of all of this was completely nominal.  I was invisible.  Seeing this entire process of executive decision making was pretty cool.  Everyone knew the longer it took to conclusively agree on something, the more likely that plane was going to be gounded in the blizzard.



C-17's stand about four stories tall.



Another wrench in the mix was the race of a “higher up”, as I’ll refer to them as.  They were in the 45 minute drive to the airstrip as the plane was on the ground.  The aircraft ready to close the doors, they leisurely strolled aboard.  It would have been nice to see them humbled standing on the ice watching their flight take off because of their non-urgency.  I guess I wish everyone the best.  I’m glad they made the flight.



Cargo Deltas waiting to be loaded on a beautifully warm day.



Well, anticlimactically, there was no further issue with the upload and the aircraft was able to take off in a break where the sun had burned up much of the clouds.

I saw some pretty interesting things today.  There were some excellent lessons of what to do when it comes to quick decision making, and what not to do when it comes to leadership by example.

I have to say it was a good day.

Airfield crew:  Airfield Supervisor Paul, left, then Rick in front, Karl in the middle, Deliverance in the red hat
Dylan on the tire, and Andrew and I atop the cab.