It was 2:20 am when I looked at the clock. My body was paralyzed. The only thing that I could move were my eyes. Lying on my left side my back was pointed toward the bedroom door. The noise that woke me from a hard sleep was loud. I know it was close. What seemed like minutes, when I looked back at the clock it read 3:05. Had fear gripped my mind causing me to lose time?
The night was clear with a half moon. While I was in my trance, if that's what it was, my vision became cat-liked. I could see the stings on the blinds.My hearing had been sharp since I woke up.I began to feel I just did a big shot of cocaine. All of my senses were alert. My legs were fine. I had heard nothing the whole time. I slowly turned over bringing my Glock from under my pillow. There was not anyone around, now. What was the source of the loud noise? This is not the first time this has happened. This shit has been going on since my brother died. Hell, it may be originating from my own brain. I have never found the source. Maybe it is my bro trying to tell me something. I need to make some drastic changes. I have already started something new. I forgot to buy some cornflakes leaving me without something I did every morning, afternoon, whenever I got up, that is. This is when I changed my life. A drastic one.
I joined the US Air Force. I started out as a load master on a KC-135. I worked my way up to that, anyway. I went to college and received a BS in Aeronautics. I had to have at least a BS to enter flight school. After being accepted and finishing Officers Training School I was shipped off to Randolf AFB in San Antone. Introductory was 25 hours of flying a prop plane and learning in the classroom. Undergraduate was a little more exciting. One year of flying 10-12 hours a day flying a T-38 Talon which happened to be supersonic. As was the case in most everything I became real good at skills needed to be a successful fighter pilot. I was finally shipped to my permanent party base, Eglin AFB, Ft. Walton Beach, Fl. Eglin was an armament development and test center. It also had a new fleet of F-15 Eagle's in their SAC. I learned to fly with another set of eyes. The F-15 was a two seater. A weapons officer rode behind me and we quickly became the hunters. Flying missions out over the Gulf, training. That is all we did. Scramble, get airborne in 20 minutes. Train, Train. I never new how all this training would make me a very, very, wealthy man. I enjoyed serving my country and had planned on staying until I retired. Plans changed. What a change it was!
The night was clear with a half moon. While I was in my trance, if that's what it was, my vision became cat-liked. I could see the stings on the blinds.My hearing had been sharp since I woke up.I began to feel I just did a big shot of cocaine. All of my senses were alert. My legs were fine. I had heard nothing the whole time. I slowly turned over bringing my Glock from under my pillow. There was not anyone around, now. What was the source of the loud noise? This is not the first time this has happened. This shit has been going on since my brother died. Hell, it may be originating from my own brain. I have never found the source. Maybe it is my bro trying to tell me something. I need to make some drastic changes. I have already started something new. I forgot to buy some cornflakes leaving me without something I did every morning, afternoon, whenever I got up, that is. This is when I changed my life. A drastic one.
I joined the US Air Force. I started out as a load master on a KC-135. I worked my way up to that, anyway. I went to college and received a BS in Aeronautics. I had to have at least a BS to enter flight school. After being accepted and finishing Officers Training School I was shipped off to Randolf AFB in San Antone. Introductory was 25 hours of flying a prop plane and learning in the classroom. Undergraduate was a little more exciting. One year of flying 10-12 hours a day flying a T-38 Talon which happened to be supersonic. As was the case in most everything I became real good at skills needed to be a successful fighter pilot. I was finally shipped to my permanent party base, Eglin AFB, Ft. Walton Beach, Fl. Eglin was an armament development and test center. It also had a new fleet of F-15 Eagle's in their SAC. I learned to fly with another set of eyes. The F-15 was a two seater. A weapons officer rode behind me and we quickly became the hunters. Flying missions out over the Gulf, training. That is all we did. Scramble, get airborne in 20 minutes. Train, Train. I never new how all this training would make me a very, very, wealthy man. I enjoyed serving my country and had planned on staying until I retired. Plans changed. What a change it was!
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