This entry was posted by my co-blogger Dick, a writer and former squadron mate:
For the record, I was in the pit of Stormy’s F-15 when Paul flew his flight lead check out of Soesterberg, like in 1981 or there abouts. That mission told me all I needed to know about Skid. Yeah, he had a different call sign then. He didn’t pick it, it was given to him, but that’s his story to tell. Skid was leading a four-shipper in marginal weather to fly a CAP (Combat Air Patrol) over Alhorn, an air patch in Northern Germany that was going to be attacked by a bunch of shit hot fighter pukes from NATO’s Tactical Leadership program out of Jeaver. Anyway, Paul led three other F-15s into a furball that could best be described as “sporting.” For what it was worth, I think we ate their shorts. But they didn’t invite me to the debrief. But I remember Paul, er Skid, on the radio. He adhered to the code that demanded it was better to die than sound bad on the radio.
Now Paul and I disagree on the war in Iraq. I respect his opinion because Skid earned that right. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that if Skid was in Iraq and he was paired against a target, all we would hear on the radio would be “Skid’s in,” and there would be nothing left of the target but hot hair, teeth, and eyeballs. I guess what I am trying to say is that it is an honor to given a chance to yack on Flying Bugger’s weblog.
Thanks Paul, er Skid, er Flying Booger. Oh hell, thanks buddy.
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