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Turn your radar on today. Be on the lookout, not for the enemy, but for opportunities to give and be a blessing to someone else. It's the best investment of your life and resources today.

Brushy Four On 1 July 1972 I was number 4 in Brushy Flight, attacking a target in Kep, North Vietnam. As we exited the target area, our flight was targeted by a Surface-to-Air Missile (SAM) from our left 7 o'clock position. This SAM was tracking differently than a typical SA-2. The typical SA-2 traveled in a lead-pursuit flight path, not too difficult to defeat if you can see it. this SAM was different. It was traveling in a lag-pursuit flight path, aiming directly at out flight. We separated into two sections of two aircraft, about 1000 feet apart, with each wingman flying in close formation with his lead aircraft. As number 4, I flew in formation on the left wing with Brushy 3, the deputy flight lead. I watched the missile track toward our section in my left rear-view mirror. It was heading directly for me. As it was about to hit me, I flinched to the left and was immediately rocked by the sound of the explosion as it hit Brushy 3. Fortunately, Brushy 3 did not go down. The missile detonated as a proximity burst. His aircraft was leaking fluids, but continued to fly. Because he had lost his utility hydraulic system Brushy 3 could not refuel, so he would have to land at DaNang, South Vietnam, if his fuel supply lasted. I was assigned to escort him to DaNang. Miraculously, his fuel supply lasted, and he landed with an approach-end engagement on runway 17 left while I landed on runway 17 right. After refueling, I led another F-4 in formation back to Ubon. The reason I led the flight, at low altitude, was because the other aircraft could not pressurize. It had taken a small arms round through the rear canopy, right through the back-seater's heart. Walnut Four The Vietnam Veterans Memorial – The Wall – has panels that list the KIA (Killed In Action) casualties in chronological order of their loss. Panel W1, the last panel, encompasses the date July 30, 1972. My name is not on that panel, because my military Brothers, Sid Fulgham, J.D. Allen and the crew of Purple 28, saved my life. I was Number Four in Walnut Flight, four F-4s on a strike deep into enemy territory north of Hanoi. The flight was being led by our new squadron commander, Sid Fugham, on his first mission leading a strike over Hanoi, and J.D. was the deputy flight lead, Walnut Three. Enroute to the target, we faced heavy reactions. SAMs (surface-to-air missiles), AAA (anti-aircraft artillery) and MiG calls (enemy aircraft). As we egressed the target area over the Gulf of Tonkin, Lead called for a fuel check, and that was when we all realized that my fuel was significantly below the other airplanes in the flight. In fact, I wouldn't have enough fuel to make it to the post-strike refueling point. Sid was out of ideas, and that's when J.D. went into action. With Sid's concurrence, J.D. took command of the flight, sent us over to the emergency GUARD frequency, and made contact with the refueling tankers. One of them, Purple 28, volunteered to fly up into enemy territory to meet us. That crew put their airplane, their lives, and their careers on the line to save me. Back in 1972, navigation was not the GPS precision it is today. The INS (inertial navigation system) position on the F-4 could be off by as much as 10 miles for every hour of operation. The only way to roughly determine our position was radial/DME from a TACAN located on a Navy ship, far away. J.D. asked the tanker for his position from the TACAN, then gave the tanker a heading to meet up with us. Picking the tanker up on radar, J.D. told him when to begin his turn to a heading to match ours, and told him to start a descent. In the meantime, he directed me to start a half-nozzle descent. My WSO and I were running through the Preparation For Ejection checklist, and I was periodically reporting my fuel state. The last reading I recall seeing was 0 on the tape and 0030 on the counter. About two minutes fuel. With fuel gauge tolerance, perhaps a bit more, perhaps less. Up until this time I had simply been flying the headings, speeds and altitudes J.D. had assigned. I was pretty much operating on mental autopilot. The next thing I knew, I looked up and saw the refueling boom of the tanker directly above me, flying a "toboggan maneuver". I opened up my refueling door and immediately heard the rush of JP-4 entering my aircraft. And I knew I wouldn't need to step over the side on this mission. I think of J.D. and the tanker crew, and silently thank them, every time I hold my wife, my kids, my grandkids. If they hadn't stepped up to the plate when they did, I'm fairly certain I wouldn't have made it home. When you pull the ejection handle over shark-infested enemy-controlled water, there are a thousand things that can happen to prevent a happy outcome. So on this coming July 30th, I want to once again thank my Brothers, the brave tanker crew, Sid Fulgham, and J.D. Allen. My Last F-4 Flight In 1973 I was assigned to the 44th Tactical Fighter Squadron, at Kadena Air Base, in Okinawa. The squadron was on long-term TDY to CCK Air Base, in Taiwan. I was going through squadron check-out in the F-4C, and had flown a gunnery mission to Ie Shima bombing range in Okinawa.  For several weeks before July 5th I had been feeling unusually tired. I still ran five miles every day, and put in a lot of hours at the squadron on my additional duties as Life Support Officer, as well as filling in for the Admin Officer, who was TDY. But, naturally, as a self-designated Iron Man, I didn't check in with a flight surgeon. On this flight, I was feeling really, really weak. During the pitch-out during our arrival back at the base, I was blacking out from two Gs! After we taxied in to park, I couldn't climb out of the airplane by myself, and an ambulance crew took me to the hospital. Turned out I had Mononucleosis. After I was released from the hospital, I was placed on non-flying duties for several months, and during that time I was reassigned to Wing Headquarters in a desk job. Although I continued to fly after I recovered, it was in the T-39 Sabreliner, not the F-4. So I never had the closure of a "champagne flight" in the F-4.  

NATO Liderler Zirvesi geride kaldı. İttifak, tehdit ve imkanları yeniden belirleyecek. Stratejik Konsept hazırlığı başladı. Deniz Kilislioğlu sordu, konseptin zeminini hazırlayacak raporu yazan 10 kişilik grupta yeralan Emekli Büyükelçi Tacan İldem yanıtladı.

Subir el Tacaná es casi una experiencia religiosa, Víctor nos cuenta su historia.

The Vietnam Veterans Memorial – The Wall – has panels that list the KIA (Killed In Action) casualties in chronological order of their loss. Panel W1, the last panel, encompasses the date July 30, 1972. My name is not on that panel, because my military Brothers, J.D. Allen and the crew of Purple 28, saved my life. Forty-eight years ago today, I was Number Four in Walnut Flight, four F-4s on a strike deep into enemy territory north of Hanoi. The flight was being led by a new flight lead, Sid Fulgham, on his first mission over Hanoi, and J.D. was the deputy flight lead, Walnut Three. Enroute to the target, we faced heavy reactions. SAMs (surface-to-air missiles), AAA (anti-aircraft artillery) and MiG calls (enemy aircraft). As we egressed the target area over the Gulf of Tonkin, Sid called for a fuel check, and that was when we all realized that my fuel was significantly below the other airplanes in the flight. In fact, I wouldn’t have enough fuel to make it to the post-strike refueling point. Sid was out of ideas, and that’s when J.D. went into action. With Lead’s concurrence, he took command of the flight, sent us over to the emergency GUARD frequency, and made contact with the refueling tankers. One of them, Purple 28, volunteered to fly up into enemy territory to meet us. That crew put their airplane, their lives, and their careers on the line to save me. Back in 1972, navigation was not the GPS precision it is today. The INS (inertial navigation system) position on the F-4 could be off by as much as 10 miles for every hour of operation. The only way to roughly determine our position was radial/DME from a TACAN located on a Navy ship, far away. J.D. asked the tanker for his position from the TACAN, then gave the tanker a heading to meet up with us. Picking the tanker up on radar, J.D. told him when to begin his turn to a heading to match ours, and told him to start a descent. In the meantime, he directed me to start a half-nozzle descent. My WSO and I were running through the Preparation For Ejection checklist, and I was periodically reporting my fuel state. The last reading I recall seeing was 0 on the tape and 0030 on the counter. About two minutes fuel. With fuel gauge tolerance, perhaps a bit more, perhaps less. Up until this time I had simply been flying the headings, speeds and altitudes J.D. had assigned. I was pretty much operating on mental autopilot. The next thing I knew, I looked up and saw the refueling boom of the tanker directly above me, ready to plug in. I opened up my refueling door and immediately heard the rush of JP-4 entering my aircraft. And I knew I wouldn’t need to step over the side on this mission. I think of J.D., the tanker crew, and Sid and silently thank them every time I hold my wife, my kids, my grandkids. If they hadn’t stepped up to the plate when they did, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have made it home. When you pull the ejection handle over shark-infested enemy-controlled water, there are a thousand things that can happen to prevent a happy outcome. So on this anniversary, July 30th, I want to once again thank my Brothers, the brave tanker crew, J.D. Allen, and Sid Fulgham.    

Kidung Kabungahan 87 Aya Hiji Gusti Luhur Pangkatna Lagu : Henry Bishop (1826); KK III - No 43, PGP 1927 No. 54 Bahasa Indonesia : Kusditama (2000) Aya hiji Gusti, luhur pangkatNa, NamiNa geus sohor kamana-mana, Laksaan jalma nu nyanggakeun hormat, Sareng diparuji ku malaikat, Tacan, tacan nyaho maneh, Saha eta Gusti anu sohor teh? Ari eta Gusti, namiNa Yesus, Hartina Yesus teh mutuh ku alus, Nulungan kajalma nu euweuh harga, Nyalametkeun anu baroga dosa, Saha saha nu percaya, Meunang panghampura ti Gusti Eta Gede kawasaNa, eta Gusti teh, AsihNa kacida ka jalma kabeh Sakur anu nurut eukeur di dunya, Tangtu dicarandak asup Sawarga, Abdi abdi hayang pisan. dipaparin asih dikarunyaan. Dinyanyikan ulang oleh: Debby Ariyonathan ,Yanuar V. Dwiputra Musik oleh: Dennis Setya Perkasa Junaedi, Adi R.P Djalimun, Rikki D.N. Immanuel GKP Bandung-2020

Tacan Reynar ile hayat, anlam, kimlik ve politika üzerine sohbet

NATO’s head of public diplomacy, Ambassador Tacan Ildem, describes what “strategic anticipation” means for the Alliance at the 70-year mark, and shares insights you won’t hear anywhere else. For more candid conversations on the “In The Arena” podcast, please subscribe on iTunes, Soundcloud or YouTube. The post In The Arena – Episode 27: Ambassador Tacan Ildem appeared first on McCain Institute.

NATO’s head of public diplomacy, Ambassador Tacan Ildem, describes what “strategic anticipation” means for the Alliance at the 70-year mark, and shares insights you won’t hear anywhere else. For more candid conversations on the “In The Arena” podcast, please subscribe on iTunes, Soundcloud or YouTube. The post In The Arena – Episode 27: Ambassador Tacan Ildem appeared first on McCain Institute.

En este episodio hablamos sobre las celebraciones de año nuevo, cómo acabamos el 2018, qué haremos en este 2019, consejos valiosos, qué es un podcast, qué sucedió en el Paliacate con Rendon Groove, el ASMR y un intento de ello, rifa de algo especial, Elton subiendo al Volcán Tacaná, los likes y los bestnines, Yanet García y Black Mirror. ¡Muchas gracias por escucharnos! Recuerda seguir la "Dinámica" de la rifa. Te recordamos nuestras redes sociales: twitter.com/cancinorannou instagram.com/allfadirrannou twitter.com/ecgatre instagram.com/ecgatre twitter.com/maumartinezs instagram.com/maumartinezs

The Vietnam Veterans Memorial – The Wall – has panels that list the KIA (Killed In Action) casualties in chronological order of their loss. Panel W1, the last panel, encompasses the date July 30, 1972. My name is not on that panel, because my military Brothers, J.D. Allen and the crew of Purple 28, saved my life. On July 30, 1972, I was Number Four in Walnut Flight, four F-4s on a strike deep into enemy territory north of Hanoi. The flight was being led by a new flight lead on his first mission over Hanoi, and J.D. was the deputy flight lead, Walnut Three. Enroute to the target, we faced heavy reactions. SAMs (surface-to-air missiles), AAA (anti-aircraft artillery) and MiG calls (enemy aircraft). As we egressed the target area over the Gulf of Tonkin, Lead called for a fuel check, and that was when we all realized that my fuel was significantly below the other airplanes in the flight. In fact, I wouldn’t have enough fuel to make it to the post-strike refueling point. Lead was out of ideas, and that’s when J.D. went into action. With Lead’s concurrence, he took command of the flight, sent us over to the emergency GUARD frequency, and made contact with the refueling tankers. One of them, Purple 28, volunteered to fly up into enemy territory to meet us. That crew put their airplane, their lives, and their careers on the line to save me. Back in 1972, navigation was not the GPS precision it is today. The INS (inertial navigation system) position on the F-4 could be off by as much as 10 miles for every hour of operation. The only way to roughly determine our position was radial/DME from a TACAN located on a Navy ship, far away. J.D. asked the tanker for his position from the TACAN, then gave the tanker a heading to meet up with us. Picking the tanker up on radar, J.D. told him when to begin his turn to a heading to match ours, and told him to start a descent. In the meantime, he directed me to start a half-nozzle descent. My WSO and I were running through the Preparation For Ejection checklist, and I was periodically reporting my fuel state. The last reading I recall seeing was 0 on the tape and 0030 on the counter. About two minutes fuel. With fuel gauge tolerance, perhaps a bit more, perhaps less. Up until this time I had simply been flying the headings, speeds and altitudes J.D. had assigned. I was pretty much operating on mental autopilot. The next thing I knew, I looked up and saw the refueling boom of the tanker directly above me, ready to plug in. I opened up my refueling door and immediately heard the rush of JP-4 entering my aircraft. And I knew I wouldn’t need to step over the side on this mission. I think of J.D. and the tanker crew, and silently thank them, every time I hold my wife, my kids, my grandkids. If they hadn’t stepped up to the plate when they did, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t have made it home. When you pull the ejection handle over shark-infested enemy-controlled water, there are a thousand things that can happen to prevent a happy outcome. So I want to once again thank my Brothers, the brave tanker crew and J.D. Allen.

It was 30 July, 1972. Operation Linebacker was well under way.  Typical missions north of Hanoi would have us refueling over Laos and making “right turns” to attack targets northwest of Hanoi, or refueling feet wet and making “left turns” to attack targets northeast of Hanoi. In mid-July, some genius at Seventh Air Force figured out that we could surprise the gomers by ingressing using left turns from feet wet to attack targets to the northwest: all the SAMs (surface to air missiles) would be pointing the wrong way! We weather cancelled on the same mission for about 10 days in a row. If there had once been an element of surprise, it was gone by the time we actually executed the mission on 30 July.  To make matters worse, COMSEC on the radios was less than perfect.  While we were on the tanker, someone from one of the escort flights asked, “Are you guys planning to ingress over Kep?” So much for theelement of surprise! I was number Four in Walnut flight, four F-4D’s from the 8th TFW at Ubon Air Base, Thailand. Jim Badger was my back seater on his first mission to Pack 6, the area around Hanoi, at that time the most heavily defended area is history. Our new squadron commander, Sid Fulgham, was Walnut One, leading his first four-ship flight.  As we entered the target area, we dodged nine SAMs, and then attacked the target and exited to the East. When we got feet-wet, Walnut One called for a fuel check. It was then that I realized that I was in deep trouble. I checked in with less than half the fuel of the other aircraft in the flight. There was a long pause, and then lead said, “Walnut Four, say again”. As I read my fuel again, it finally hit me how bad my situation really was. We were now somewhere over the Gulf of Tonkin and a long way from our post-strike refueling track. Walnut Three, our deputy flight lead, was a highly experienced F-4 driver, instructor and Weapons School grad who was checking out the new flight lead. He came on the radio and said, “Walnut Lead, this is Three. Request permission to take the flight”. To his great credit, Lead knew that the mission was more important than ego, and passed the lead to Three. Walnut Three, the new flight lead, sent us over to Guard frequency, and transmitted, “Mayday, mayday, mayday. This is Walnut flight. We need an emergency tanker”.  Almost immediately Purple 28 responded. Walnut Three got his radial and distance from Red Crown, a TACAN located on a navy ship out in the gulf. He signaled for me to move to the lead for flying, so I wouldn’t need to jockey the throttles to stay in formation, and he assigned me a heading. He then calculated a heading for the tanker to fly to rendezvous with us. Walnut Three then told me to slow down and start ashallow descent to conserve fuel. I pulled the throttles back and started a half-nozzle descent. At this point I was somewhere outside the airplane, about ten feet above, looking down on an F-4 being flown by someone who looked an awful lot like me. Inside the airplane, robot George wasflying.  Jim was reading the Preparation for Bailout checklist, and Robo George was answering with short, clipped responses that would have made the Apollo astronauts envious. Only I wasn’t DOING anything. I was in total negative panic. Jim read “Stow all loose objects” and I answered “Stowed”. Only later did I realize that I had left my camera strapped to my CRU-60 connector, an invitation to smash my face in during an ejection. While robo George was flying the airplane on a steady heading and totally oblivious to everything else that was going on, Walnut Three was getting updates on Purple 28’s position relative to Red Crown and giving him headings and altitudes to fly. At one point he gave Purple 28 a 180-degree turn to our heading. Shortly after that, real George took over from robo George, looked up and saw a tanker right in front of us, doing a toboggan refueling descent. Somehow, I was in “contact” position. I opened the refueling door and had a sudden realization that a lot of people had performed extraordinary airmanship to get me to this point. What if I became more of a hamfist than usual and couldn’t refuel? As I was struggling with my sudden self-doubt, I felt a “clunk” and heard fuel rushing into my airplane. I was getting fueled! I looked down at my fuel gauges for the first time since robo George had taken over. I had 0 on the tape and 0030 on thecounter. Roughly 2-3 minutes fuel remaining at the time refueling started. While I was on the tanker I heard another F-4 bail out one mile in trail of a tanker due to lack of fuel.  We lost several aircraft that day. After the flight, my low fuel state was chalked up to my being pretty much a hamfist, and the aircraft was released to fly again the next day. It just so happened that Jim Badger was in the back seat of that aircraft again on another Pack 6 mission. This time his pilot was Blaine Jones, one of the most experienced F-4 jocks in the wing. They came off the target with low fuel state again!  Poor Jim thought that EVERY Pack 6 mission would be like this! Finally maintenance decided to really investigate what the problem was with the airplane, and found a malfunction with the air data computer scheduling the inlet ramps improperly. Walnut Three and Purple 28 saved my life 45 years ago. Not many pilots could have put all the pieces together to make it work out the way Walnut Three did, with no time left to spare. I know I couldn’t even today, after flying almos continuously for over 50 years. When I look into my children’s, and my grandchildren’s eyes, I think about how this could have ended so differently. I could have been forced to bail out over shark-infested enemy waters, with death or capture equally as likely as rescue. And I owe the last 45 years to the unknown crew of Purple 28 and to J.D. Allen, the pilot of Walnut Three.