Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)
- Who said, “The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.”?
- In what movie (and who said it) did we hear, “Yippee-ki-yay, Mother…”?
- In what song (and who sang it) did we hear the following?
The sound of your footsteps
Tell me that you’re near
Your soft gentle motion, babe
Brings out a need in me that nobody hears
According to Professor Google, the term, “Pucker Factor,” originated somewhere, sometime in the 60s.
I never knew the term during my early elementary and junior high school years, though there were times when it would have certainly been appropriate.
I enlisted in the US Navy in July 1973—I was 18 years old… old enough to sign legal documents. My parents didn’t know I’d joined the Navy until a few days later when they called me about my grades from Florida State University… a dismal 0.7 GPA with an accompanying note: “Dismissed for academic reasons.”
Dad: “Son. We just received your report card in the mail and wanted to talk with you about your grades.”
Me: “Yeah. I know. They weren’t what I expected, either.” [Unbeknownst to my mom & dad, I actually expected them to be lower]
Mom: “Care to explain?”
Me: “I joined the Navy.”
Mom: “What?!!!”
There was silence—a long, deafening silence. I forgot whatever else was said on that phone call. But I enlisted for four years (1973-77). It was definitely an awakening AND set the cornerstone for my life.
I think I first learned the term “Pucker Factor,” along with several other unique Navy terms, during my six weeks in boot camp (Orlando RTC, July-August ‘73; Company #163; CC ADJ1 Louis Wright). I believe it was the first week, like many of us new recruits, when I wondered if I’d made the right decision.
But such is the way of boot camp… at least, back in the 70s.
ABH “A” School
My Navy rating was an Aviation Boatswain’s Mate-Handler (ABH). After boot camp, I traveled to ABH “A” school in Lakehurst, New Jersey for a six-week training course on how to fight aircraft fires and how to direct aircraft. That’s what ABHs did.
Back while attending FSU, I had learned to skydive: one of several “extracurricular activities” my parent didn’t know about. I made two “static line” jumps at 3,000 feet. That’s basically when your parachute is attached to a long, 20-foot “static line” cord attached to the aircraft that opens your parachute after you jump out of a perfectly good aircraft. You’ve seen these before when a squad or platoon of paratroopers line up inside an aircraft, “hook” up their lines, and walk toward the back of the aircraft to jump.
Why, you ask?
I have no idea, but it was exhilarating, to say the least.
When I arrived at Lakehurst, there was also an active skydiving club, so naturally, I joined. I made two more jumps, including my first “DRCP” (Dummy Rip Cord Pull) jump. Again, the parachute is attached to the aircraft with a long cord, but you pull a “dummy” rip cord handle. The idea is to practice “pulling” the rip cord without twisting your body upside down.
Wind resistance and physics can be a tad complicated, but when you’re falling through the air, it takes practice to fall properly; and I use that term loosely. Yes, we’ve all seen the free fallers flipping and sliding and doing all kinds of aerial acrobats while skydiving. But when you’re the new kid on the block, it takes practice. If you don’t move your arms in tandem, the wind resistance will twist your body.
For a novice like me, that was my first introduction to the Pucker Factor.
NAS Agana Guam
I spent most of my short, 4-year Navy career in aircraft Crash & Rescue. During ABH “A” School, I filled out the infamous “Dream Sheet,” requesting West Coast duty. I got my wish, though it was a long way from home: NAS Agana, Guam. I’d been assigned to the Crash & Rescue Division; at that time CWO-2 Bos’n Joye was the division officer.
Crash had two sections, Port and Starboard; I was in the Port Section. We worked 24 hours on and 24 hours off for 15 months. I shared my old, renovated WWII barracks “home” with three other guys in Crash. Our other “home” was the Crash Barn, located right off the tarmac between the airport Aircraft Control Tower and one of the aircraft squadrons.
While I’d already had six weeks of training at A School, we constantly trained in Guam. We’d usually practice “hot drills” several times a month. The training area was located on a hill at the far end of the runways. Various pieces were arranged like an aircraft (fuselage, wings, tail). There was also a 5,000-gallon tanker truck with plenty of fuel to spread around the practice area.
That gave us the opportunity to practice fighting aircraft fires as a team. Back then, we wore silver asbestos suits, allowing us to walk through fire. Practice, practice, and more practice. Not a lot of people can claim they’ve walked through fires like this.
Yet, I never experienced the Pucker Factor while fighting fires, either while in the Navy or when I left the Navy in 1977 and joined the local City of Gainesville Fire Department.
Though there was that one time while training for the GFD. We were required to climb a 50-foot ladder, lock in a knee at the top rung, bend back and clap our hands. I should also mention the ladder was vertically straight in the middle of a field, not leaning against a structure. Four guide ropes extended out and held taut by two firefighters each (total of eight), while the base of the ladder on the ground had two more firefighters leaning against it. The idea was to first trust your team and second, determine how high a Pucker Factor you’d experience.
Funny thing was, I don’t remember any Pucker Factor. It was fun being that high in the air and looking around the area.
But I digress…
USS Kitty Hawk
There’s a huge difference between a land-based Naval Air Station and an aircraft carrier. It’s not just the size component, though that does contribute. It’s the amount of fast-paced action in a much tighter space.
I worked on the flight deck of USS Kitty Hawk (CV-63), an aircraft carrier (’75-77), assigned to V-1 Division / Crash & Salvage during Westpac ’75, then transferred to a Yellow Shirt aircraft director after the Bremerton Shipyards.
Most days, “normal” flight operations (whatever that was) typically began around 10 a.m., and continued through midnight. V-1 Division personnel had to be on the flight deck an hour before and remain an hour after flight ops. That was, unless we were flying around-the-clock, like we did in the Sea of Japan.
I’ve written several blogs about my time aboard Kitty Hawk, including those not-so-good events. Even while reacting to a crash or fighting fires, I never experienced the Pucker Factor. I don’t know why, other than during those events, your training kicks in and you do what you have to do to protect yourself and your team.
The anxieties and “what ifs” usually came later. Some of them still remain to this day, especially when something (a sound, a smell, a taste, or a sensation) “triggers” my mind back to a time long, long ago.
Bow Flying
Now, downtime on the carrier while at sea was something else. I’d written before about “Bow Flying;” at least, that’s what we called it back in the mid-70s.
The ship’s bow cuts through the water like a sharp knife through butter. But the wind follows the bow up and over onto the flight deck. You can literally stand close to the front of the ship and lean forward at a 45-degree angle or more. We’d open our foul-weather jackets like wings and lean over farther. If you jumped at the right time, you could actually “fly” backwards. It took practice, otherwise, you might land on your ass.
However, for me… I just couldn’t bring myself to lean over the bow as much as some of the other airdales. Even though there were wide safety nets surrounding the flight deck where there were no catwalks, that was just a little too gutsy for me. In other words, the Pucker Factor for me peaked out around 8 or 9.
Revisiting the Flight Deck
While researching my Navy memoir, “Three Years, Eleven Months, & 29 Days—But Who’s Counting,” the Navy provided the opportunity for me to spend a few days aboard an active aircraft carrier in 2009. I flew out from North Island in a C-2 Greyhound, landing on the USS Ronald Reagan.
Since I’d been an ABH, of course I wanted to be out on the flight deck, but I assumed they’d only let me watch flight ops from the island’s Vulture’s Row. Unbeknownst to me, the Flight Deck Director was an ABH mustang. He welcomed me aboard and after I’d stashed my overnight gear in a guest stateroom, he took me to Crash, gave me a float coat and cranial helmet and said, “Follow me!”
“Wow” is all I could say. Back on the flight deck, taking pictures, reminiscing, and swapping stories with the new kids, telling them about the “good ol’ days” in PI, Hong Kong, and Japan. The Crash crew gave me a red jersey, which I was honored to accept.
Yet, out on the flight deck, even after 30+ years, it all came back to me. Just like riding a bike. Some things you never forget. Not once during the flight ops—and yes, I was standing next to aircraft launches and recoveries, alongside the foul line—did I ever experience the Pucker Factor.
Heights—”High” Pucker Factor
I can’t end this blog without mentioning that one time (keyword: “one time”) my wife & I visited the Sears Tower in Chicago. It’s now called the Willis Tower. Located on the 103rd floor is the Skydeck. There are four glass-enclosed skyboxes on the west façade, where you can… walk out… and peer down 103 stories… beneath you.
Talk about a high Pucker Factor!
Of course, there are always those tourists who try to mimic Alan Rickman’s final scene in the movie Die Hard.
I think, for me, once was enough.
Until we meet again,
Andy
Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books, including You Can’t Get Much Closer Than This-Combat with the 80th “Blue Ridge” Division in World War II Europe, published by Casemate Publishers (2005) and selected as the Book of the Month for the Military Book Club. Adkins also writes a weekly blog, “A Veteran’s Journey.”
Answers
- Nelson Mandela.
- Die Hard (1988), John McClane (Bruce Willis).
- Midnight Confessions (1968), The Grass Roots; written by Lou T. Josie.
Previous blogs mentioned in this post:
- #4—From Civilian to US Navy
- #35—US Navy “A” School (ABH)
- #153—The “Dream Sheet”
- #53—You Always Remember Your First
- #67—Flight Ops: Another Fine Day in the Navy
- #49—Westpac ’75: After Six Months, Were Coming Home
- #68—Flight Ops: A Day in the Life of Crash & Salvage
- #30—USS Kitty Hawk @ Bremerton Shipyards, Part 1
- #23—Rough Seas – Sea of Japan
- #114—Those Dastardly “Triggers”
- #47—Memorable “Moments,” Part 1 – The Flight Deck
- #13—After 30+ Years, I’m Back on the Flight Deck
- #61—There’s a Reason for the Flight Deck “Foul Line”