The "Worthless trip" That WASN'T

Early in 1986, I was TDY in Cold Lake, Canada, when the word came that I'd made Master Sergeant (E-7). Shortly after we got back to Mountain Home, I received orders to attend the NCO Academy at Norton AFB, California (now closed).

I had wanted to go to the academy as a Staff Sergeant. I had wanted to go to the academy as a Tech Sergeant. As a MASTER Sergeant, I considered it a waste of time, because by 1986, the Air Force was getting to be "too political for the old Bazookaman. I knew that once I sewed on "stripe number six", I would have the last stripe I could "legitimately" test for. The "Super grades", (E-8 and E-9) had reached a point where it was becoming equally as important to fill "social squares" as well as the working ones.

You found favor with the boards if you belonged to the Club, if you got your name-tag in front of the right people, if you participated in certain cliques or organizations, and if you were a "team player" as the UPPER echelon saw it. Basically a "yes man."

Oh, you COULD make the "top two" on your own merits, but the odds were against you. And Bradbury didn't play ANY of their games.

Man, they used to hid ME out, or give me the DAY OFF, (without my even having to take an official day of leave)-----whenever some visiting 12th Air Force big wig, or some congressman might be coming to Blue. "TSgt Bradbury, Crew Chief of 074"....was NOT somebody they wanted around, if "General so-and-so" were to walk up to his airplane and ask "How are things going?" Because if there was some "dog & pony show" going on, or we were short on parts, or if maintenance time was being wasted to re-paint the hanger everytime we had special guests...........Bradbury would speak his mind, no matter WHO was standing in front of him. Air-Force-wise....I was still one of "Jerry's Kids" (Chief Ash), and his words still echoed----------"We're here to fly airplanes and drop bombs.......NOT run some kind of pimp show." Blue Section swept me "under the carpet" on more than one occasion.

I never just told people what I thought they wanted to hear. I still don't. Maybe that's the old "Marine" in me. I wasn't a member of the NCO Club, because after 12 to 14 hours on the ramp everyday, I didn't need to hear the "instant replays" of what went on out there today." If I wanted a beer, I'd go home, sit in my recliner, sip on a Coors and find out what my KIDS did in school today. (That flightline would still be there in the morning).

I don't belong to the VFW today for the same reason. I'm tired of re-living the war.

I didn't write my own APR's for somebody else to sign, padding it with crap I never did just to impress "the board"........and I would NEVER stand in front of a board in my dress blues, lookin' "PURTY" (as Davies would say), and sell myself out for their "high & mighty amusement."

It was nearing time for the old Bazookaman to start looking at the front gate. There was enough time left on my enlistment to retire as (E-7), and I WASN'T staying for more, so I talked to Federhart about this............"They wouldn't send me to the academy when I NEEDED or WANTED to go-----why send me NOW, when I'm just gonna RETIRE in a couple of years?"

"Instead of wasting a good slot, why don't you guys send a young Staff or Tech, who CAN use it now?"------it fell upon deaf ears. Fellow friend and Crew Chief Jim Williams (we called him "Chilly-Willy" because he was cold all the time out there), said to me............"Look at the bright side, Brad'--------at least it's a break out of HERE for a few weeks. He had a point. So I packed the old Mercury and headed for California for the next month or so. It WOULD be good to get away for a bit.

Except for an economist who came and lectured in the "great hall", my time at Norton was little more than recreation, and that was ok too. The instructors had been out of touch with the REAL Air Force for some time. they were teaching sound factors and principles that you could NEVER apply back at your own base, because you'd instantly be over-ridden. But that's what they were paid to teach, so you just took notes and studied the answers so you could pass each block test.

We marched around the "parade-ground" like good little troops. (I have ALWAYS said that the Air Force should never march-----they don't know how). But we were off on the weekends, life there was basically easy, and there weren't any "12-hour shifts!" I just kicked back and made the best of it.

Ultimately though, this trip down there that I had fought, turned out to be for the best after all! Tech Sergeant Frank Cole, (my barracks room mate) and I would take turns driving each other around "seeing the sights" on the weekends. Frank was from Travis AFB about 400 miles to the north of Norton.

One Saturday morning, we got up early, had breakfast and headed south on I-15. It was my turn to drive, so we got in my car and took off to Victorville to see the Roy Rogers Museum. It turned out to be a very interesting morning.

Down the interstate a few miles, we encounted the Cajon Pass, a long sweeping left & right turn grade that seemed to rise into the clouds on a 6% grade. Frank's car was a little 6-cylinder Ford Fairmont, but we were in my '67 Mercury, that had a big-block "390" in it, slightly modified with an Edelbrock SP-2P aluminum intake manifold, a Holly 600 4-barrel, a very stout C-6 and dual exhaust w/glass-packs...........it would RUN.

We'd gone about a third of the way up the long grade, when I caught the glimmer of shiny-sparkling "red" in my rearview mirror. When we rounded the next long curve, that red car had cut the distance in half and was coming on! The next time I looked, he was pulling around us to pass!

Being on old car buff, I immediately recognized it as a '59 Edsel. Now.........we were "cruising" UP a 6% grade at around 70mph, and that Edsel came around us like we were impeding traffic! "WOW!" says Frank.........what was THAT? "An Edsel" I replied. Frank comes back with...."I've always heard they weren't very good."-----"Well THAT one just blew by us!" says I.

"Can you catch up so I can get a look?"

"Not a Problem!" says I.........."There ain't no Edsel that's gonna run away from this MERC'!".......and I put the "peddle to the metal" as they say.

Accelleration when you're already on a steep incline isn't the easiest thing to do, and that Edsel was already under a full head of seam whe he came around us. But I knew what kind of "modified horsepower" was under MY hood, and as Frank held on, I started passing cars too as my speedometer continued to climb.......and we continued to gain altitude.

We were clicking off 105-110 mph when we popped over the summit............and the Edsel was GONE! I still had some pedal left, but backed-off instead because of the increase in traffic. We looked hard but never DID see that Edsel again. I was slightly embarrassed because I TOO, had always heard that those cars were "lemons." and to have my "pride & joy Mercury" OUT-RUN by one, didn't set well.

Anyway, we got to the Roy Rogers Museum just as it was opening. We went inside, walked up to the teller's cage and bought a couple of admission tickets. Frank and I were close to the same age, and were both HUGE Roy Rogers fans.

As the lady was handing us our tickets and museum pamphlets, a guy walks through the front door with a dog, a black lab. He was wearing a short-sleeve shirt and a baseball cap. We didn't pay much attention to him at first, but then with his dog sitting up, he starting SINGING to the dog, and the DOG started to lowly "bay" back at him............

A lifelong fan, I recognized that singing voice IMMEDIATELY and yelled over to Frank.........."THAT'S HIM!.....THAT'S HIM!!" It was ROY ROGERS! He didn't look like himself when he first came in the door, because of the baseball cap and short-sleeve shirt (you always picture Roy with his white COWBOY hat, the fringed western shirt and double-holstered sixguns).

When I had yelled "THAT'S HIM!", He looked at Frank & I and said "Well hi there!...........how are you fellas this mornin?" Frank & I stood there FROZEN..........and the "ticket lady" says........"Well, go over their and TALK to him!"

We quickly walked over to where he and his dog were standing, and he warmly shook hands with us. Noticing our "G.I." haircuts, he asked us if we were from nearby George AFB. We told him where we were from and why we were "down the hill" at Norton, and that we didn't want to pass up seeing his museum while we were in the area. (although we CERTAINLY hadn't expected to see Roy HIMSELF!)

Frank and I talked with him for 15 or twenty minutes, about the movies and how they don't make 'em like that anymore. You know..........you never really expect to meet a childhood hero, and in the back of your mind, you always hoped that if you ever DID, he wouldn't be some "stuck-up pompous celebrity wearing sunglasses, who would duck through a door, rather than take any time for a fan, or maybe talk DOWN to you, like they were doing you some kind of favor to even say "hello."

Roy Rogers was the REAL DEAL. Ten seconds into the conversation, you felt like you were his longtime next-door neighbor! We talked about Dale, Pat, Gabby, the Sons of the Pioneers, and he got a bit teary-eyed when we asked a couple of questions about Trigger (who was also in the museum). He really loved that horse, and told us that in all of those movies, Trigger was "like iron, he never stumbled even once, over all of those years and different terrains, and that they "broke the mold" after Trigger was born.

I remember asking him about the screen credits........when the film started, it always showed the TITLE, under that was "Roy Rogers"....under THAT was "Trigger, the smartest horse in the movies"..........and THEN they listed all the co-stars and rest of the cast.

I asked him if Trigger's name in the credits being AHEAD of everyone else,s------if that ever created a problem with Dale.........."Naw"......he replied with a little chuckle......"Trigger and I were a team before she ever came along."

I had my camera with me. (a GOOD habit to have when you travel). Frank and I took each other's pictures with Roy, who had to be getting upstairs to his office. We thanked him for taking the time to talk with us, and I remember him saying something to the effect that, "Hey........if it wasn't for you kids so long ago, there wouldn't BE a Roy Rogers, thanks for coming this morning guys, hope you enjoy the museum." We shook hands again and he headed upstairs to his office. As we passed the "ticket lady" and started into the museum, the lady told us we had really timed it right that morning, because Roy didn't come in all that often, due to his schedule.

I couldn't help but think that if I HADN'T gotten into that "road race" with the Edsel, we'd have probably gotten to the museum 5 or 10 minutes later than we did, he would have already been upstairs in his office, and we'd had MISSED seeing him...............it all worked out just fine.

I have a considerable Roy Rogers collection in a tall glass cabinet in my den, and that 11x14 of Roy and I together is my most treasured piece!

That museum was a time capsule for any Roy Rogers fan. Pat Brady's Jeep "Nellybelle" was there, a massive collection of guns, not just his movie guns, but his private collection as well. There were stuffed wild aimals from his African Safaris......(Roy Rogers was a crack shot in real life. He could ride, rope, shoot, and do most of his own stunts, too). he was also a pack-rat who threw away NOTHING-----that museum was FULL of his movie costumes, parade saddles, things that had belonged to Gabby Hayes, Pat Brady, the Sons of the Pioneers, Dale's costumes plus all of the books the'd SHE had written.

Toys--------Roy Rogers cap pistols, lunch boxes, alarm clocks, telephone sets, bunkhouses, and a hundred other things I never knew even existed. My personal collection of Roy Rogers memorabilia impresses people when they see it---------but it doesn't even scratch the surface of what all is out there somewhere! here in Idaho, the weather is crappy enough to where there are days (time permitting), when it's just a cool "fifties thing", to just sit back with the phone unplug and a cup of coffee, and watch one of those many Roy Rogers DVD's...........where the good guys brought the bad guys to justice.

It was a different time back then.

I am so blessed to not only have LIVED back in those days, but to have met Roy and seen that museum when I did. The Roy Rogers/Dale Evans Museum is gone. After their deaths, their son Dusty moved the museum to Branson, Missouri, to hopefully attract most tourists. But most movie fans today are no longer attracted to the old westerns, as Hollywood has continued to produce more and more smut..........raw language, and the films have become so distasteful, they have to be Letter-Rated so the parents can decide if their kids should even be allowed to go.

We never had that problem at the Potrero Hill theater in 1956, when I first started going to the movies with my "hooligan friends", as Mom used to call them.

But the move to Branson wasn't enough to fire-up enough "new interst" to keep the museum afloat, and since Roy had by then passed away, there was no longer even a "chance" now to see him in person. It was sadly all auctioned off last year...........even Trigger, who was sold to a private collector for just under $300,000

Roy Rogers, Gene Autry, Hoppalong Cassidy and the Cisco Kid were making movies the KIDS took their PARENTS to see.

It's a bygone time. My kids and grandkids have really missed out, but if I were to die tomorrow, my life has really been blessed. I would never have traded it for anything.

I've said it before---------I grew up with Roy Rogers, Nehi Orange, '57 Chevys and Wolfman Jack.........I've always felt sorry for anyone who didn't.

It was really somethin'