Document created: 21 July 03
Air University Review, July-August 1976

Critics of the United States military forces might have raised more than just eyebrows when the Institute of Social Research at the University of Michigan, in a report made public in May 1974, found that of all American institutions, the U.S. military topped the list as the most admired.

To the surprise of many in uniform as well, 1444 respondents to the Michigan survey scored the military above colleges and universities, the news media, and ahead of the Supreme Court.

Andrew Tully, the noted columnist, attributed the fascinating find to the military’s credo of patriotism, service to country, and ". . . in square language . . . a willingness to die in the country's defense." Tully's inference was that Americans are being tinned on by old values--the kind so liberally dispensed, for example, in the enormously successful television show "The Waltons." (But even these gentle stories have been put down by the ubiquitous critic as "nauseatingly saccharine.")

Another Waltons-like phenomenon is the emergence of a bird named Jonathan as a national folk hero. And with him, among other old values dusted off rhetorically, is the much-neglected work ethic. Jonathan Livingston Seagull's appeal is that he found "perfect love and honesty" through achievement--achievement which, to be sure, might be labeled as "nauseatingly cornball."

Military life, with its unfading allegiance to the late General MacArthur's adage of "duty, honor, country," is probably as cornball a way of life as can be found anywhere. It may be America's strongest bastion of old values where, among other things, it is presupposed that its members will do the right, ethical, and patriotic thing before anything is done at all. And, as Mr. Tully observed, commit the quintessence of triteness--that of being willing to die for their country.

The fact that this predisposition may have crept into the public's awareness, eliciting some admiration, indicates that there may be no scarcity of cornball Americans: knee-jerk squares who stand tip when old glory goes trooping by; those whose hearts beat more quickly when a John Philip Sousa march is heard.

Indeed, as the Nation observes its two hundredth birthday, there are decided red, white, and blue signs that the Spirit of '76 is reviving, taking root in millions of hearts and hearthsides across the land.

The military, certainly, can be credited for sowing some of the seeds. Most American families have been touched by the military in one way or another, and in many instances, perhaps most, the contact has had an infectious quality.

VFW posts, the American Legion, and the many military academies and fraternal and social organizations that are modeled and structured after the military--all serve to perpetuate service--bred idealism and patriotism.

Despite the critics and "bad press" the armed services have received, there remains in the conscience of middle-class America an ingrained belief that military training is character-building training.

Why is this?

For one thing it can be hypothesized that the military is one of the least complicated and least self-serving entities in America today. Its remains a controlled society, not in the sense that individual liberty is denied but in the sense that all of its members must conform to unusually strict moral and ethical standards.

For another thing, it is a monumental anachronism in a "me first" age. It possesses more sheer power than any institution in the world but submits humbly to civilian authority. It is now in the process of systematically cutting its own strength because it is the mandate of Congress to do so, a fact that creates wonderment in countries ruled by military regimes.

Rules and regulations govern almost every aspect of military life, extending even into the sanctity of the home. The permissiveness that has characterized U.S. society in recent years is not to be found among the military. The generals, paternal mentors, do not permit it.

It may be that many Americans, buffeted by the excesses of a permissive society, have a growing regard for uncomplicated institutions wherein "dos and don'ts . . . right and wrong are clearly articulated and understood.

The military, perhaps, also has an attraction to many because it offers blessed relief from the dog-eat-dog syndrome. Survival, career progression, the old rat race is on a more exalted competitive plane. Rarely does another person’s back function as a ladder. For officers, it's an incisive up or out proposition. And each year thousands retire (with stiff upper lips) after failing to win promotions.

This simple fact eliminates much of the unsavory peer competition. The bee is squarely on the individual. He must measure up to established standards or see his career nosedive or end suddenly between the tenth and seventeenth year. And, contrary to most professions, the standard is not how many dollars he is worth in return for his services but how well he comport himself as a whole man in the eyes of his beholders.

The Air Force promotes on what it calls the "whole man" concept: how the individual does his job, his judgment, morals, appearance, and personal behavior.

An officer who writes one bad check, for example, is in serious trouble. Like a school lad sent to the principal, he must suffer the humility of explaining the whys and wherefores to his commander. If he is too fat, he's placed on the fat man's roster for imposed dieting. If he is derelict or drunk on duty, he risks an Article 15 punishment or worse. One Article 15, a nonjudicial, voluntarily accepted form of punishment, is enough to destroy all chances of promotion.

Enlisted personnel face the same discipline. And the picture is similar in all branches of service.

Because rules are rules and should not be compromised regardless of their intrinsic wisdom, military careerists live with the nagging awareness that a sharp-edged hatchet hangs over their heads, much like Joe Btfsplk's black cloud in "Li'l Abner." Its levitation is controlled by their immediate superiors, and to a certain extent by every other military person. To keep it from falling, careerists must practice at being the ideal soldier, an officer and a gentleman, honest, loyal, and brave. In truth, it is a game, but a serious game dictated by the ultimate reason the military exists: not to die for one's country exactly but to make the enemy perish for his.

It is a matter of duty to allow the hatchet to fall if a gross violation of the military code is committed. This propensity goes a long way toward explaining why careerists--"lifers" to maverick noncareerists--are such indefatigable SOB'S.

There are few parallels in civilian life. But this is not to say that the Air Force (nor any of the services) has a Pratt and Whitney engine for a heart. Flexibility, compassion, and the virtues of one man's responsibility to another flow generously through its vastness. Many problems unsolvable at home are unraveled in its boy scout, cornball environment.

"Send us a boy, and we will return a man" is a favorite recruiting slogan of the U.S. Marines. It is a claim that all services can back up. The Air Force until recently said it this way: "Find yourself in the Air Force."

Finding oneself means exploring the complex roots of the conscience. In the ultimate sense, awareness of sell is demanded for psychological reasons of anyone who might be called upon to level a gun, figuratively or otherwise, at another human being. Young Americans facing the awful reality that to wage war means to kill and risk being killed are forced to ponder the difficult question of national responsibility and morality more deeply than those who never had to face danger or be called upon to perform a service upon which hundreds of lives might depend.

The so-called military mind that dotes on raw power and its indiscriminate application has often been the subject of satire. Intellectuals and satirists who hold this view would be wise, however, not to debate the question of morality or the essence of truth in a public forum with a combat pilot or crew member or with any other dedicated military combatant. Most likely they would lose--if not by the weight of reasoned argument, by the fervor of commitment to a cause that has stood the test of time.

Discipline, courage, dedication--the inner stuff seldom tested of an individual who has never experienced such commitment upon which national honor and life itself may hinge--are discovered, gauged, and reconciled somewhere along the way in military service. Found also is an abiding sense of patriotism that makes all the enigmas understandable and meaningful. Patriotism is the "truth" that hardly ever comes up for discussion during happy hours at club bars, but it is, nevertheless, the thread from which the fabric of military life is woven.

Go to a base movie, and you will stand for the Star-Spangled Banner. Every day at retreat when the flag is lowered, traffic halts, all activity ceases until the last strains of the Star-Spangled Banner fade. New members, who lack awareness of what the flag means to a soldier, soon are educated. Sometimes dramatically.

Lieutenant George H. McKee, who retired last September from the post of Commander, Air Training Command, is one of many Air Force leaders who exemplified love of country. From this man, who rose through the enlisted ranks himself a served on active duty for 35 years, three young airmen learned something about the flag in a memorable way.

While serving as Commander of the Eighth Air Force at Andersen AFB, Guam, General McKee left his position of rigid attention one day after a retreat ceremony. Instead of turning back into the headquarters building, he strode, without a word to anyone, toward an airmen dormitory three blocks away. During retreat he had noticed three men seated there, their legs dangling from the second floor balcony.

The airmen caught sight of the lone figure marching diagonally across a field of grass. Laughingly, one said, "It looks like he's coming to see us." Their interest turned to surprise when the general's three stars glinted in the setting sun. Transfixed, they watched in silence as he neared, then climbed the stairs of their building.

Moments later they were standing uncomfortably, trying to look military in their T-shirts, cut-off jeans, and sandals, facing a soft-spoken man whom they knew well but had never met. It was from him that they learned about the flag, what it symbolizes, and why they should stand for those who have fallen to keep it waving.

"God, he was sincere," one of the men said afterwards.

The acid test of one's patriotism--love of flag--of course, occurs in combat. It is only in the heat, ordeal, and despair of battle that personal commitment can be given dimension and weighed.

Dedication has rarely been more severely tested or so abundantly in evidence than among Air Force men and women who endured the long conflict in Southeast Asia, From bases throughout Southeast Asia and the Western Pacific, a lean Tactical Air Command and Strategic Air Command* combat crew force carried out one of history's most grueling air campaigns. There was little respite for these airmen between June 1965 and August 1973. In this period children grew up without fathers.

*EDITOR’S NOTE: The author was assigned to the Eighth Air Force (SAC) during the most intensive period of air operations over Southeast Asia, hence references deal primarily with SAC operations.

Few crewmen and still fewer support airmen in maintenance, munitions, and operations escaped the repeated temporary combat duty. For SAC personnel it was 149-179 days of twelve-hour shifts around the clock, day in and day out. When they did get home, it was for 30 days, then back to the grind, over and over again.

Three hundred combat sorties for crew members were not uncommon. Some flew as many as 500. From Andersen AFB, a single B-2 sortie took 17 hours from briefing to debriefing. The SAM-threatened, twelve-hour flights were described as "eleven hours of sheer boredom and one hour of heart-palpitating terror."

The grueling routine took a toll, of course. Marriages failed. Brightly promising careers were abandoned. But most stuck it out to the end and at all costs.

Lieutenant General Gerald W. Johnson, USAF Retired, commanded SAC'S combat-famed Eighth Air Force during the most intensive air operations over Southeast Asia. He said of his people:

They worked too hard, they tolerated poor living conditions, they were away from home too long, but they did their job magnificently.

Throughout the long conflict, SAC was called upon to perform an ever increasing and important air role in Southeast Asia and, at the same time, carry out its nuclear deterrence mission. There was no magic wand to produce new and fresh combat crews, no additional logistical, maintenance and munitions specialists in the number needed puffed from Aladdin's lamp. No new manpower or weapons systems came about. The same people, young men and women, were called upon again and again to do the job. But the price was paid and it was paid by the SAC wife.

Of the hard living conditions experienced by SAC people at Andersen, Joe Murphy, editor of Guam's Pacific Daily News said the following:

The situation isn't good and there is irony, too. Here we have a combat base on the northern fringes of our booming resort island . . . war, sacrifice, even death, juxtaposed with the leisurely pace of a tropical island enjoying the fruits of prosperity.

Regardless of how one views the long struggle in Southeast Asia, the sacrifice, dedication and professionalism of the SAC crew force cannot be denied: Americans of all walks can take comfort in that fact.

One of the SAC men Murphy may have had in mind was Captain Gregory J. Gamp of Garden City, Long Island. He had waited it out along with the rest, although it had never been his intention to make a career of the Air Force.

Captain Gamp was in the last cell of B-52s to drop bombs in Southeast Asia. On landing at U-Tapao Airfield, Thailand, a newsman asked if he was proud of what he had done. Captain Gamp, after a pause, responded: "I am proud to be an American and having the opportunity to serve my country. I am proud of my crew. Now, I am quitting the Air Force and going back to my family. But I want you to know that I couldn't quit while I was needed and the going was rough. That's the way it is and has been with us Gamps."

It is this sense of responsibility, displayed by men like Captain Gamp who see their duty and do it, that is recognized by Americans as something worthy of admiration and respect.

Visible in the military, perhaps in clearer focus today than in the recent past, are qualities observed by Elbert Hubbard in a soldier named Rowan who was sent on a dangerous mission to Cuba, alone and totally dependent on his own wits, during the Spanish-American war. Of him Hubbard said:

By the eternal there is a man whose form should be cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in every college of the land. It is not book-learning young men need, nor instructions about this or that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies, do the thing.

The nation seems ready in this Bicentennial year for a return of high values coupled with high aspirations that will add purifying waters of loyalty to a trust, and perfection in the pursuit of honorable goals) in the national mainstream.

A great many Americans are getting the message that the military has achieved this state, more so--as the Michigan survey suggests--than the colleges and universities, the media, or any other element of society.

The word is out . . . blowing in the wind, carried on wings. That outcast sea-gull named Jonathan is not a bird but an ex-Air Force fighter pilot, Richard Bach, who sought and found a useful, workable definition of "truth"' and created Jonathan to articulate it.

Listen to Jonathan after he had blazed triumphantly through the terminal velocity barrier for seagull--"an achievement for all the flock."

How much more there is now to living. Instead of our drab slogging forth and back to the fishing boats, there's reason to life! We can lift ourselves out of ignorance; we can find ourselves as creatures of excellence and intelligence and skill. We can be free. We can learn to fly.