The kidnapping of Mr. Bones

[Toro]

Going back through my old e-mails, I found this gem. Ironically, it was written by a T-38 FAIP bud of mine who would later go on to be an Albino driver. Less than 10 years ago this occured, but it's a throwback to the fighter pilot days of lore.

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Taxpayers beware; this story involves the combustion of tens of thousands of pounds of JP-8 and the consumption of many of your tax dollars in an effort to retrieve one long-dead aviator.

Mr. Bones, or Mr. F. Bones, or Frank T. Bones, is the mascot of the 95th Fighter Squadron at Tyndall Air Force Base, Florida (the home of the mighty F-15 Eagle). He has a long and glorious history, most of which I don't know, which started back in WWII when the "Boneheads" (as the 95th FS pilots are called) flew P-38s and generally kicked everyone's butt. He's a full-size plastic skeleton, like you would find in your high school biology classroom, dressed in a flight suit complete with name tag and O-6 rank (that's right--though dead, Mr. Bones has attained the rank of Colonel. Hope for us all.) He usually resides comfortably in his coffin in the Bonehead's squadron bar at Tyndall. Usually.

I am proud to say that the 50th FAIPs now have a place in the history of the venerable Mr. Bones. It all started when my squadron commander, Lt Col XXX "Grover" XXX, and my good friend and fellow FAIP XXX "Bob" XXX went cross-country to Mountain Home AFB (that's in Boise, ID) so Grover could attend the retirement ceremony of a friend. Yes, when you're the squadron commander, you can grab a "Seeing-eye Captain" like Bob, take a jet, and travel across the entire country if the mood strikes you.

Anyway, Grover, like Mr. Bones, has a long and distinguished history himself, much of it involving the F-15. He found his loyalties torn when, while drinking in the F-15 squadron's bar at Mountain Home (his old unit), he spied Mr. Bones propped nonchalantly in the corner. It seems the F-15 boys from Boise had been on a trip to Tyndall in the spring and had stolen Mr. Bones right from his coffin! Grover's first assignment as a pilot was to the 95th, so being a Bonehead at heart, he decided to stuff Mr. Bones into his T-38's travel pod and wrest him back to lovely Columbus, Mississippi (the Mountain Home Eagle drivers, being both drunk and somewhat dim-witted, were none-the-wiser until it was too late...).

On the way back to Columbus, Grover and Bob stopped for the night at Elsworth AFB in South Dakota, just down the road from Sturgis, where a huge Harley rally was underway (apparently it's the biggest Harley rally in the land--who knew?) Since Grover is a Harley driver and Bob had the foresight of toting his video camera along on the trip, the two of them escorted Mr. Bones for several hours through the streets and bars of Sturgis. The resulting 30 debaucherous minutes of video, replete with drunk and sometimes naked biker women, come into play later....

In the meantime, Saw, another good friend and fellow FAIP, had left Columbus to pursue his dreams of becoming a real man and was about half-way through the F-15 syllabus at Tyndall, training with the fine instructors of none other than the 95th FS. Well, word traveled quickly that Grover had acquired Mr. Bones, and since Saw was once a member of the 50th, it fell upon him to get him back to the Boneheads. Saw contacted me to find out what Grover wanted for ransom, and Grover put it into Bob's and my hands. So what did we ask for? RIDES IN THE MIGHTY EAGLE JET, what else? The 30 debaucherous minutes of video were edited down to 20, set to loud music, and sent along with a ransom note (authentically constructed out of magazine clippings, I might add) to the Boneheads. The note demanded "family models" be flown to the land of "pork and catfish," and was signed the "FAIP Mafia," a throwback to days of yore.

To my great surprise, Saw called me a few days later with the news that the ransom had been accepted and that four Eagles were on their way up for retrieval. After I got over my disbelief, Bob and I spent two weeks drafting paperwork and assembling agendas for their visit. Grover left everything to us, insisting that we only "make it memorable." To us that meant one thing--lots of booze (yes, there is irony to be found there).

Last Thursday, as the four-ship of mighty Eagles was taxiing up to Base Operations at Columbus, Bob and Slaydog and I stood waiting on th ramp with a cooler full of beer. From there we took them to the squadron for a tour, and Ringo (an Eagle pilot) gave an "Eagle Reach" presentation in our auditorium for interested IPs and students. We rolled to Proffitt's Porch around seven, still in our flight suits, and basically took over the whole restaurant. Bob and I had taken Polaroids of Mr. Bones in several unflattering situations, so before everyone got too drunk, we presented the 95th squadron commander (callsign "Gorilla") with a shot of Weed, the pictures, and several vulgar though surprisingly lyrical poems. About one hour and four bottles of whiskey later, the Mississippi woods reverberated with fighter pilot songs, none of which can be repeated here, as my now fairly inebriated co-workers sang at the top of their slurring voices. It was then that I knew that I had done good, though it was a fleeting feeling cause I passed out soon thereafter.

And yes, the next morning at eight we managed to brief a three-ship ACM ride (that's Air Combat Maneuvering), and Bob, Slaydog, and I crawled into the back of the Eagle jets and raged for about 45 minutes. 45 minutes of 7+ G's, full afterburner, and a sense that I've made the right decision.

When we landed, we all limped out of our jets and were shaking hands when Grover pulled out onto the flightline in his Harley, Mr. Bones riding on the back. We handed him over, a more than fair trade, and watched a little sadly as he was stuffed into an F-15 travel pod and taken back to his coffin at Tyndall.

[Guest JorryFright21]

Good story!

[HossHarris]

Damn ... good times!

[HuggyU2]

Terrific!

The dad of my very good friend was the SQ/CC of the 95th back in the 70's, and I'll forward this on to him.

[HossHarris]

If you ever find yourself in their bar, they keep all the "ransom details" from all the abductions ... you should be able to find the video, polaroids, and lovely poetry ... along with lots of other good stuff from Mr. Bones' previous trips.