Bringing the Bombers to Australia
Written: Jul 07 '00 (Updated Jul 09 '00)
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Product Rating:
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Pros: Fun, interesting place
Cons: none
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| 2manykids's Full Review: Australia |
Mid-summer, 1990 was a year of transition in the world. Our old nemesis, the Soviet Union, had collapsed the previous year. As a mechanic on our nation's nuclear alert force, I had the privilege to see those awful weapons put back into storage. If you were a child in 1990, you'll never understand what the end of nuclear alert meant. For that, I thank God. Anyway, our force of B-52 and B-1 bombers were converted to non-nuclear missions and we were free to travel. This led to one of the most lucky and amazing coincidences of the 20th century. Here's the story:
In midsummer, 1990, the governments of the Pacific Rim decided to hold one heck of a big Joint Forces exercise, involving the air forces of at least a half-dozen nations. For us it meant the Mother of All Road Trips: a stopover in Honolulu, a few days on Guam, two weeks in Australia, side trips to Thailand and Diego Garcia, and another week on Guam. After I got the travel order, I had to have my grin surgically removed! I was the very picture of alacrity as I packed my gear.
A few wings of B-52G bombers, an equal number of KC-135A aerial tankers, a handful of fighters, and even a half-dozen B-1B "Lancer" bombers launched from various United States bases and converged on Guam for a few days of rest and regrouping. Lucky me, I drew one of the long straws that won me the trip to Darwin, Australia. American bombers hadn't been seen in Australia since the Vietnam War. The Aussies get pretty uptight about anything that can pack nuclear weapons, so we were ordered to be on our absolute best behavior. The several cases of contraband whiskey that found its way into our luggage promised to ease Aussie sensibilities. Naturally, we'd accept a similar token of friendship in return from our allies. One of those really cool RAAF bush hats was the accepted exchange for a fifth of Jack Daniels. Barter is an ancient military tradition. Our tankers were the first to arrive in Darwin. We had the tools, parts, luggage, and the booze, so we had to be there first. Shortly afterward, prehistoric B-52's and ultra sleek B-1's dropped in out of those incredibly azure Australian skies.
What was my first official act as a representative of 250 million Americans? I got soaked. A large crowd had arrived to watch us Yanks recover our aircraft. As the supervising mechanic on the tanker ramp, I was pumping demineralized water into our aircraft's 850-gallon water tanks. Our pumping kit dated to the Vietnam War, and its 2-inch canvas firehoses were pretty rotten. There I was, tanned and sexy, strolling among the mechanics to keep things running smoothly. Was I posing? You bet! Just as I stepped across the water main, that rotten old hose ruptured, sending up a 30-foot geyser of high-pressure water. Well it would have gone 30 feet high if I hadn't been standing exactly over the break. Next thing I know, I'm wrestling that damn hose like an early version of "The Crocodile Hunter" and I'm yelling like an idiot for someone to "please go shut off the @*^$%&# water!" There went all the cool points I'd amassed so far.
It's a lucky thing that Darwin is practically a desert. Even the winter air of late July is hot and dry, so my uniform and I dried within an hour. My ego continued to drip for several days. The Aussies, gracious folks, never said a word the hose incident. They simply bused us over to the Australian Air Force dining hall for our first meal down under. Fed, we headed to downtown Darwin and the hotels.
Darwin is a small yet beautiful city. Most of it sits atop a bluff that overlooks the muddy bay. A large public park separates the bluff's edge from the row of excellent resort hotels. Off one end sits a largish mall. Palms, shrubs of various kinds, and these amazing, bright violet flowers decorate the park, which is threaded by a pretty jogging path. We settled into a place called "The Atrium", one of the more stunning hotels I've ever seen. The lobby features a small pond and stream, with fish and palms. Surrounding this in a ring are the open walkways that serve each floor. This creates cathedral ceiling above the lobby that extends upward at least eight stories. From the uppermost floor, philodendrons cascade like shiny green waterfalls all the way to ground level. Spectacular? Oh, yes!
A moderate walk from central Darwin is the casino. Located along a wide, sweeping beach, the casino is the best place in Darwin to stay. Gambling is legal, obviously. A row of hotels and casinos extend along a half-mile or so of really nice topless beach. The rather muddy water does not invite swimming. Neither do the sea crocodiles or the box jellyfish, so stay out of Darwin Bay. Enjoy the beach, wade in the shallows, but avoid deeper water unless you're with someone who knows what they're doing. I didn't know this until our arrival, so the 30 pounds of SCUBA gear I'd hauled along went unused.
Australia is rather expensive. We were paying $10 to eat in decent restaurants, but were fortunate that our hotel rooms had kitchenettes where we could could cook. A case of beer cost about $25--compared to $8 in the States--and other items were similarly pricey. expect to spend money in Australia. Restaurants were excellent, as was the service. Grocery stores had pretty much what we needed, plus weird stuff like 'veggemite'--a food item that is best left untried. Transportation was easy to come by in the form of these little rental buggies. They look like Death Waiting to Happen, but beat the heck out of walking in Darwin's intense heat.
Naturally, we went clubbing after work. Australian clubs were really popular and had a strictly enforced dress code. Leave the backwards hat and saggy pants at home 'cause this ain't Brooklyn. Being American was a pretty popular gig, and we ate up the attention. One word of advice, when offered yet another free beer, learn to say "no". Your head will thank you. A few places even offered what we'd call 'microbrews', or really good local hooch. Australia takes beer seriously, so this is a drinker's paradise.
We were there to work with the Australian military. We'd "attack" Darwin and they'd try to shoot us down. Our B-52's ransacked the place, but the B-1's were lucky to get off the ground. At night we'd take turns guarding the aircraft alongside an Australian military policeman and his canine. Aussie military don't carry guns for such duty. Considering their attack dogs, they don't need guns. I remember one night, sitting on the quiet parking ramp among the planes. My counterpart was sitting a short distance away and his dog, unleashed, ambled among the planes--all those tires must have looked like doggy heaven to him. Little devil had an amazing bladder capacity. He ambled over to me and I absently reached out and scratched his ears. The dog, in dog fashion, began licking my face. The poor guard was mortified! He sat there, ashen faced, hoping the dog wouldn't rip out my throat. I never gave it a thought and the dog never so much as nipped. Nice pooch.
We managed to take in some of the local tourist attractions. North of Darwin are the remains of Second World War military installations. This is a great place, at night, to see hundreds of kangaroos and wallabees. A few folks visited the local crocodile farm to watch the crocs eat whole chickens. I stayed in the hotel on that day.
We eventually had to return to Guam. I enjoyed laid-back Darwin, and Australia in general. In a land of extremes, Darwin has to be among the more unusual destinations and I hope I go back sometime. We packed our stuff and our souvenirs, and headed for home. Remember that "amazing coincidence" I mentioned when we began this tale? As we were approaching Guam, our crew had one of the radios tuned to a local news station. Apparently, Saddam Hussein had just crossed the border into Kuwait and had taken over that country. He appeared to be unopposed and unstoppable, except for one thing he didn't know about: us.
We just happened to have two wings of B-52 bombers, plus their ordnance, crews, and mechanics, already in place on the island of Diego Garcia when Iraq invaded Kuwait. Our folks had just gone through two weeks of rigorous war games and were pumped and ready. The Fates really crapped on Saddam's birthday cake in midsummer, 1990. He couldn't have picked a worse time for an invasion and he didn't know if little ol' us had any nukes handy. If you ever wondered why he didn't immediately move into Saudi Arabia for a sure victory, I believe we were the reason.
Recommended:
Yes
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Epinions.com ID:
2manykids
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Member: Dave
Location: Jacksonville, Arkansas
Reviews written: 102
Trusted by: 23 members
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