Dear Boss

The Dear Boss Letter*

Dear Boss,
Well, I quit. I’ve finally run out of drive or devotion or rationalizations or whatever it was that kept me in the Air Force this long. I used to believe in, “Why not the best,” but I can’t keep the faith any longer. I used to fervently maintain that this was “My Air Force,” as much or more than any senior officer’s…but I can’t believe any more; the light at the end of my tunnel went out. “Why?” you ask. Why leave flying fighters and a promising career? Funny you should ask— mainly I’m resigning because I’m tired. Ten years and 2,000 hours in a great fighter, and all the time I’ve been doing more with less—and I’m tired of it. CBPO [Central Base Personnel Office] doesn’t do more with less; they cut hours. I can’t even entrust CBPO to have my records accurately transcribed to MPC [Military Personnel Center]. I have to go to Randolph to make sure my records aren’t botched. Finance doesn’t do more with less; they close at 15:00. The hospital doesn’t do more with less. They cut hours, cut services, and are rude to my dependents to boot. Maintenance doesn’t do more with less; they MND [maintenance non delivery] and SUD [supply delete] and take 2.5 to turn a clean F–4. Everybody but the fighter pilot has figured out the fundamental fact that you can’t do more with less—you do less. (And everybody but the fighter pilot gets away with it...when’s the last time the head of CBPO was fired because a man’s records were a complete disaster?) But on the other hand, when was the last time anyone in the fighter game told higher headquarters, “We can’t hack 32 DOCs [designated operational capability] because we can’t generate the sorties?’’ Anyway—I thought I could do it just like all the rest thought they could...and we did it for a while…but now it’s too much less to do too much more, and a lot of us are tired. And it’s not the job. I’ve been TDY [on temporary duty] to every dirty little outpost on democracy’s frontier that had a 6,000-foot strip. I’ve been gone longer than most young jocks have been in—and I don’t mind the duty or the hours. That’s what I signed up for. I’ve been downtown and seen the elephant, and I’ve watched my buddies roll up in fireballs—I understand—it comes with the territory. I can do it. I did it. I can still do it—but I won’t. I’m too tired, not of the job, just the Air Force. Tired of the extremely poor leadership and motivational ability of our senior staffers and commanders. (All those Masters and PMEs [professional military educators] and not a leadership trait in sight!) Once you get past your squadron CO [Commanding Officer], people can’t even pronounce esprit de corps. Even a few squadron COs stumble over it. And let me clue you—in the fighter business when you’re out of esprit, you’re out of corps— to the tune of 22,000 in the next five years, if you follow the airline projections. And why? Why not? Why hang around in an organization that rewards excellence with no punishment? Ten years in the Air Force, and I’ve never had a DO or Wing Commander ask me what our combat capability is, or how our exposure times are running during ops, or what our air-to-air loss and exchange ratios are—no, a lot of interest in boots, haircuts, scarves, and sleeves rolled down, but zero—well, maybe a query or two on taxi spacing—on my job: not even a passing pat on the ass semiannually. If they’re not interested, why should I be so fanatical about it? It ought to be obvious I’m not in it for the money. I used to believe—and now they won’t even let me do that. And what about career? Get serious! A string of nine-fours and ones as long as your arm, and nobody can guarantee anything. No matter that you’re the Air Force expert in subject Y…if the computer spits up your name for slot C—you’re gone. One man gets 37 days to report remote—really now, did someone slit his wrists or are we that poor at managing? Another gets a face-to-face, no-change-for-six-months-brief from MPC…two weeks later? You got it—orders in his in basket. I’m ripe to PCS—MPC can’t hint where or when; I’ve been in too long to take the luck of the draw—I’ve worked hard, I’ve established myself, I can do the job better than anyone else—does that make a difference? Can I count on progression? NO. At 12–15 hours a day on my salary at my age, I don’t need that insecurity and aggravation. And then the big picture—the real reasons we’re all pulling the handle—it’s the organization itself. A noncompetitive training system that allows people in fighters that lack the aptitude or the ability to do the job. Once they’re in, you can’t get them out…not in EFLIT, not in RTU, and certainly not in an operational squadron. We have a fighter pilot shortfall—didn’t you hear? So now we have lower quality people with motivation problems, and the commander won’t allow anyone to jettison them. If you haven’t noticed, that leaves us with a lot of people in fighters, but very few fighter pilots, and the ranks of both are thinning; the professionals are dissatisfied and most of Lts the masses weren’t that motivated to begin with. MPC helps out by moving every 12–15 months or so—that way nobody can get any concentrated training on them before they pull the plug. Result: most operational squadrons aren’t worth a damn. They die wholesale every time the Aggressors deploy—anybody keep score? Anybody care? Certainly not the whiz kid commander, who blew in from 6 years in staff, picked up 100 hours in the bird, and was last seen checking the grass in the sidewalk cracks. He told his boys, “Don’t talk to me about tactics—my only concern is not losing an aircraft…and meanwhile, get the grass out of the sidewalk cracks!”—and the clincher—integrity. Hide as much as you can…particularly from the higher headquarters that could help you if only they knew. They never will though—staff will see to that: “Don’t say that to the general!” or “The general doesn’t like to hear that.” I didn’t know he was paid to likethings—I thought he was paid to run things…how can he when he never hears the problems? Ah well, put it off until it becomes a crisis—maybe it will be overcome by events. Maybe if we ignore it, it won’t be a problem. (Shh, don’t rock the boat). Meanwhile, lie about the takeoff times, so it isn’t an ops or maintenance late. (One more command post to mobile call to ask subtly if I gave the right time because “ahh, that makes him two minutes late,” and I will puke!) Lie about your DOC capability because you’re afraid to report you don’t have the sorties to hack it. “Yes, sir, losing two airplanes won’t hurt us at all.” The party line. I listened to a three-star general look a room full of us in the face and say that he “Didn’t realize that pencil-whipping records was done in the Air Force. Holloman, and dive toss was an isolated case, I’m sure.” It was embarrassing— that general looked us in the eye and said, in effect, “Gentlemen, either I’m very stupid or I’m lying to you.” I about threw in the towel right there—or the day TAC fixed the experience ratio problem by lowering the number of hours needed to be experienced. And then they insult your intelligence to boot. MPC looks you straight in the eye and tells you how competitive a heart-of-the-envelope three is!…and what a bad deal the airlines offer! Get a grip—I didn’t just step off the bus from Lackland! And then the final blow, the Commander of TAC arrives—does he ask why my outfit goes 5 for 1 against F–5s and F–15s when most of his operational outfits run 1 for 7 on a good day? (Will anybody let us volunteer the information?) Does he express interest in why we can do what we do and not lose an airplane in five years? No—he’s impressed with shoe shines and scarves and clean ashtrays. (But then we were graciously allotted only minimum time to present anything—an indication of our own wing’s support of the program. Party line, no issues, no controversy—yes, sir; no, sir; three bags full, sir.)…And that’s why I’m resigning…long hours with little support, entitlements eroded, integrity a mockery, zero visible career progression, and senior commanders evidently totally missing the point (and everyone afraid or forbidden to inform them.) I’ve had it—life’s too short to fight an uphill battle for commanders and staffs who won’t listen (remember Corona Ace?) or don’t believe or maybe don’t even care. So thanks for the memories, it’s been a real slice of life…. But I’ve been to the mountain and looked over and I’ve seen the big picture—and it wasn’t of the Air Force.

“This is your captain speaking…on your left you should be able to see Denver, Colorado, the mile…”

* This letter was written a few years after the end of the Vietnam War by Capt. Ron Keys to Gen. Wilbur Creech, then commander of TAC.