G.I.’S ON A RAMPAGE

“What a great time we had this week, the waves are really picking up,” I said, greeting the flight crew that had just arrived from Travis. We were in Hawaii, and our crew would continue on the outbound flight to the Philippines.

Judy, the senior flight attendant for the arriving crew, slammed some papers in my hands and stormed past me. She followed the other crew members into the terminal, never stopping to chat.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Judy was usually so nice. Why was she in such a rush to get inside? I stood in the Hawaiian sun at the bottom of the boarding ramp, looking at her papers. Then I understood why she was in such a bad mood.

Judy reported that no officer had been on the military flight from California. As a result, the drafted soldiers were drunk, rowdy and abusive. I had read negative reports about crew members, but I had never read one about unruly passengers. Had the flight really been that awful?

When our crew boarded the plane, it looked like a bomb had exploded inside. Papers, blankets, pillows, and food were thrown all about the cabin.

Captain Myers, a retired flight instructor, glanced at the mess as he stepped into the cockpit.

“Wow. The cleaning guys aren’t going to be happy.”

Well, neither was the cabin crew. As senior, I had to organize the other flight attendants and help them do their jobs, while avoiding the mess throughout the cabin. It took the cleaning crew an extra hour to make the plane presentable. While we were checking and cleaning, the soldiers were inside the terminal, possibly still drinking.

Once we were notified of a departure time, the flight attendants went to their assigned positions and welcomed the men as they climbed the ramp stairs. They had been on the plane five hours from California and had another eight hours to fly to the Philippines. Then they had three more hours to Vietnam.

I noted that they were laughing and poking each other as they boarded. The smell of alcohol saturated their clothes. It seemed like they were going to a party, not to war.

“Hey Jimmy, look at the fresh meat,” one said, jerking his thumb at me as he went past.

We toured the cabin interior and checked their seatbelts, seat backs, and tray tables. I approached a soldier in an aisle seat with a blanket in his lap.

“Is your seat belt fastened?” I asked.

“Why don’t you check?” he said and grabbed my hand, shoving it into his crotch.

All the nearby men laughed. The whistles and jeers began. We had barely left the terminal, and I knew this would be an unforgettable trip.

As we taxied to the runway, I entered the cockpit and told the captain what had transpired.

“Not to worry. They’ll fall asleep as soon as we’re airborne.”

He announced over the PA system, “I want you fellows to respect the flight attendants.”

His wimpy message was greeted by more catcalls. We could hear the whistles in the cockpit even with the door tightly closed.

I left the flight deck and plunked down on the forward jump seat next to Connie. Once we were airborne, I mentioned the seat belt incident.

“The same thing happened to me!” Connie exclaimed.

We braced ourselves for what was to come, but we truly had no idea.

After we were airborne and the no-smoking sign had been turned off, we walked through the cabin taking beverage orders. As Susan left the aft galley, someone grabbed her ankle and smacked her rear end. Robin saw a man expose and stroke his penis before she fled to the rear of the plane. I had pillows and blankets thrown at me. One pillow was soaked with sticky semen. Every flight attendant was harassed and grabbed.

I charged into the cockpit. “What should we do now?” I demanded.

Captain Myers suggested having all five flight attendants enter the cockpit.

“If I lower the cabin’s oxygen level, the soldiers will pass out,” he said.

After some discussion among the flight crew, he reconsidered.

“Damn. It’s just my luck that one of those bastards would sue me.”

Since I was the ranking flight attendant, the captain asked me to stay in the cockpit. “The others should lock themselves in the restrooms.”

By phone I notified the flight attendants of the captain’s instructions. Captain Myers kept the seatbelt sign illuminated and turned off all cabin lights except for the emergency floor panels. By doing so, he hoped the soldiers would eventually fall asleep.

I sat crowded in the cockpit on the narrow jump seat. When I cracked the door open and peered out, a major free-for-all ensued. Military chants and filthy sex songs resonated throughout the plane. They had stimulated themselves into an unbelievable frenzy.

After a few more hellish hours the men quieted, but the flight attendants remained locked in the restrooms. While sequestered, they read magazines and awkwardly napped, their heads resting on pillows atop the chrome counters. Only one lavatory remained open.

During the entire eight-hour flight we presented no meals and no beverages. I looked at my watch to see how much time we had before landing. An hour before we approached the Philippines, we exited the lavatories and took our assigned places. Finally, the jet landed.

The soldiers silently deplaned, not quite the boisterous group of G.I.’s that we had picked up in Hawaii. I handed my report papers to the incoming senior flight attendant and wished her luck.

She looked incredulously at my write-up and said, “Really?”

“You wouldn’t believe it!”

On all three legs of that flight from the West Coast to Vietnam, the passengers received negative reports. It was the first time such a thing had happened. From then on, no military men were allowed to travel as a group without a certain number of officers on board.

“Our flight made military airline history,” Captain Myers stated on our return trip to California.

He almost seemed proud of the accomplishment. Not so for us, the ones working the cabin in all that chaos.

Дата добавления: 2015-08-27