The green Marine flight suit with
its multiple pockets, zippers and velcro served many practical purposes.
Velcro allowed for squadron patches and nametags to be changed out as
needed when changing squadrons or when the guys wanted to "look
good at the field" of an O' Club away from home. Some
favorite nametags: "Dick Gazinia" "Hugh Jardon"
and "Roger Ball".
The Marine Corps, frugal to the
core, issued one or two new flight suits a year. Lenny "Toad"
Bucko, a Marine fighter pilot who flew the MIGs out of Tonopah for
Red Flag, attached to the Air Force for the tour. He remains awestruck
with the number of gadgets and flightsuits he found in his locker when he
checked in. "Five!" he said. "And they told me to
just let them know if I needed more," confirming rumors the Air Force
got the good stuff.
Flight suits had front zippers
that zipped both ways, allowing aviators to "take a leak" while
strapped in the seat. A few intrepid souls used them to continue on
their quest to "look good at the field" by ball-walking at the O'Club--unzipping
from the bottom, pulling out the family jewels, rezipping down, and then
talking to women as if nothing was unusual.
My guy's multiple pockets carried
a variety of items, all accessible with the g-suit on. The outside sleeve
had narrow pockets for US Government black pens, and a zipper to a
compartment underneath for a pad of paper. The baggy side pockets on
the legs held the most important items for survival.
He kept flint and steel; firestarter--a
rectangle, the size of Double Bubble pink chewing gum, of a waxy
substance that pulled apart into cotton ball shreds; a signaling
mirror--an ingenious 3 by 4 inch mirror with a hole in the center
to allow sighting on an oncoming ship, plane or helo; Charms--yes, the
candy; bottled water, a survival knife, a shroud cutter switchblade
capable of cutting through fifteen shroudlines at a time, a survival
radio, a pen gun flare, a green flashlight with an optional red
plastic lens to keep the light from affecting night vision, and a foil
space blanket (thank you, race to the moon!).
And he always had a John Wayne
key, also known as a P-38 can opener, in his flight suit for ready access
to the C-rats in the raft. Everything had a lanyard attached. Even if he
dropped some lifesaving item, he still had it attached to his suit.
He never expected to eject. He
never had to. But he was prepared if it should happen.
There are times when my purse
resembles the pockets of his flight suit. I always carry a small
flashlight--in the old days I had a mini Maglite, now I've converted
to an LED with my iPhone (the flashlight app) for backup. I
carry gum and breath mints, a Kind bar, aspirin and migraine meds, my Kindle with 1500 books on
it, extra pens (though the black US Government pens have disappeared
into the junk drawers of time), reading glasses, sunglasses, a glasses
repair kit, money (sometimes more, sometimes less, sometimes just
plastic), a glass nail file, nail polish, Jelly Bellies for
my grandkids, hand lotion, my moleskin notebook, Tide-to-Go, and
sometimes a bottle of water.
There are always unexpected events in
our lives with our children, our spouses, our friends: a car accident, an
illness, an estrangement. My purse and his flight suit won't protect us. We
have to keep our mind and hearts just as prepared.
Also published as a column in the Military Writers Society of America's monthly magazine, Dispatches. MWSA Column
