Air University Press

BOOK EDITOR

CMSgt. Lee E. Hoover, Jr.

PROJECT WRITERS/EDITORS

Dr. Ernest Allan Rockwell

Belinda Bazinet

Meredith March

Sean Kimmons

Amy L. Christopherson

TSgt. Christopher R. Gross

SSgt. Jette Carr

SSgt. Elysia A. Wray

SrA. Megan R. Friedl

COVER ART, BOOK DESIGN, AND 

ILLUSTRATIONS

Travis Burcham 

Corey M. Parrish 

Maureen Stewart

Brandon DeLoach

Chris Desrocher 

CMSgt. Lee E. Hoover, Jr.

COMPOSITION AND PREPRESS 

PRODUCTION

Travis Burcham 

Corey M. Parrish

PRINT PREPARATION AND 

DISTRIBUTION

Diane Clark

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Hoover, Lee E., Jr., editor. | Air University 

(U.S.). Air Force Research Institute, issuing body.

Title: The evolution of Airmen : conversations with the 

Chief Master Sergeants of the Air Force / book 

editor, Lee E. Hoover, Jr.

Other titles: Conversations with the Chief Master 

Sergeants of the Air Force

Description: First edition. | Maxwell Air Force Base, 

Alabama : Air University Press, Air Force Research 

Institute, [2017]

Identifiers: LCCN 2017013549| ISBN 

9781585662753 | ISBN 1585662753

Subjects: LCSH: Airmen—United States—History. | 

United States. Air Force—History. | United States. 

Air Force—Non-commissioned officers—Interviews. 

| United States. Air Force—Non-commissioned 

officers—History.

Classification: LCC UG823 .E94 2017 | DDC 

358.4/1330973—dc23 | SUDOC D 301.26/6:C 

73/7

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017013549

Published by Air University Press 

in March 2017

DISCLAIMER

Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations 

expressed or implied within are solely those of 

the authors and do not necessarily represent the 

official policy or position of the organizations 

with which they are associated or the views of the 

Air Force Research Institute, Air University, 

United States Air Force, Department of 

Defense, or any other US government agency. 

This publication is cleared for public release 

and unlimited distribution

4
Fifty years ago, our Air Force 

made a significant step forward. Our senior 

leaders recognized the need for an enlisted voice 

on the headquarters staff and, after a significant 

vetting and interview process, selected Chief 

Master Sergeant Paul Airey to fill this role. Paul 

Airey became the first Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force on April 3, 1967. In the 50 

years since, 17 Airmen have worn the chevrons, 

championed enlisted development and retired 

knowing the enlisted force had moved forward. 

I’m extremely humbled to follow in their 

footsteps and serve today as the 18th Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force. 

This book is more than a 

recognition of our past Chief Master Sergeants 

of the Air Force. It’s a celebration of enlisted 

Airmen and an acknowledgement of their 

considerable evolution. It’s a story about our 

70 years as a separate service, told through the 

lens of Airmen who have served every step of 

the way. It’s an example of breaking barriers... 

since 1947.

I invite you to read through the 

interviews and reflect on their stories. I expect 

you will discover your own story in these pages. 

I hope you’ll also find insight into the issues 

we’ve faced over time and inspiration in the 

challenges we’ve overcome. 

As we celebrate our 70th year as 

a separate service, let us look to the past and 

reflect on the barriers we’ve broken to become 

the world’s greatest Air Force. 

Preface

CMSAF Kaleth O. Wright

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force

5
A BRIEF HISTORY OF 

The Air Force may be the youngest of the US military services, 

but through the years, it has become the most capable and feared aerial force 

in the world. While Air Force officers have made significant contributions to 

this success, so too has the enlisted force. The Airmen who come to work with 

stripes on their sleeves have served as the backbone of the Air Force for several 

generations. Maintainers, cooks, security policemen, radio technicians, 

medical professionals, and many other enlisted Airmen have played a crucial 

role to accomplish the mission and keep aircraft flying, fighting, and winning 

in the skies above. Over the last 70 years, the enlisted force has evolved into 

the most educated, experienced, and professional force the world has ever 

seen by taking significant, purposeful strides within the realms of experience, 

professionalism, diversity, education, and training.

THE BEGINNING

In 1907, just four years after Wilber and Orville Wright took 

flight at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina, the US Air Force of today first established 

its military roots as the Aviation Section of the US Army Signal Corps. The 

division was created to take “charge of all matters pertaining to military 

ballooning, air machines, and all kindred subjects,” according to notations 

by the Air Force Historical Research Agency.1

 The Aviation Section was built 

up during modern aviation’s early inception and initially only had stewardship 

over 10 hot air balloons. A year later, the Army began flight testing airplanes 

at Fort Myer, Virginia. One pilot, Lt. Thomas E. Selfridge, died in a plane 

crash during the testing stage, but the early aircraft, a Wright Model A, was 

improved upon. Subsequently, “Airplane No. 1” was adopted into the Army’s 

aerial arsenal on 2 August 1909.

The Aviation Section was initially authorized an enlisted force of 

just over 100 men. To work in the newly created job field, the Army desired 

that the service members—pulled from those already active in the service—

gain a solid technical knowledge of the aircraft. By 1914 the Aviation Section 

had created a training structure for the enlisted members. In order to receive 

job certifications, the early “Airmen” required a degree of comprehensive 

testing and specialization; they had to show they were proficient in airframe 

maintenance and repair, as well as engine construction and maintenance. As 

an added incentive to complete the training, certification came with a specialty 

title of Air Mechanician and a 50-percent pay raise. 

70

YEARS

OVER

OF FLIGHT

THE ENLISTED 

FORCE 

6
CURTISS JN-4D “JENNY”

a wood and fabric biplane

Ready to apply the aerial capabilities of its newest section, the 

Army wasted little time before sending aircraft on missions. As early as 1916, 

the 1st Aero Squadron—the first air combat unit of the US Army—was rallied 

to the skies to help in the search for Pancho Villa, a Mexican revolutionist who 

had led a raid in Columbus, New Mexico, killing 17 US citizens. This mission 

marked the first time the United States had ever placed a “tactical air unit” 

in the field.3 When the 1st Aero Squadron reached the Mexican border with 

eight JN-4Ds in tow, the unit was made up of 11 officers, 84 enlisted men, 

and one civilian mechanic. Although their pursuit of Villa was unsuccessful, 

the 1st Aero Squadron was able to gain “valuable field experience from 

operating under ‘combat’ conditions” while navigating over the mountainous 

terrain of northern Mexico.4 It was training they would tap into sooner, rather 

than later, when the United States declared war on Germany on 6 April 1917. 

Leaving New Mexico behind, the unit traveled to France and became the first 

US squadron to enter World War I. The squadron’s original role was that 

of an observation unit, initially flying a two-seater recon plane—the French 

Dorand AR.1 and AR.2.5

 By then, the US Army Aviation Section consisted of 

131 officers, 1,087 enlisted men, and fewer than 250 airplanes. Twenty-four 

squadrons had been added to the aviation arsenal by early 1917; however, 

only the 1st Aero Squadron was fully equipped, manned, and organized by the 

time of America’s declaration of war.6

Enlisted mechanics became a valued commodity in the Aviation 

Section, but it wasn’t the only job offered to enlisted Airmen in the early 

days of the Air Force. Other career choices were available, including photo 

reconnaissance and radio. Within a year of its activation in Germany, the 

Aviation Section began to set up technical schools and institutions for enlisted 

members to develop their technical skills. As noted in the Airman Handbook, 

two of the largest schools were in St. Paul, Minnesota, and Kelly Field, Texas. 

Later, mechanics and other enlisted specialists received more training while 

deployed to the fields and factories of Great Britain and France.7

TESTING THE 

BATTLE METTLE 

OF EARLY AVIATION

This upgrade process was in place until 1926. In Generations of Chevrons: A History of the USAF Enlisted Force, Janet Bednarek speculates that the timeframe 

between 1917 and 1942 represents one of the biggest jumps forward in early aviation technology. During an era of ever-growing aviation advancements, enlisted 

maintainers had to grasp the technical details of each type of aircraft: from the Curtiss JN-4D “Jenny” [1917], a wood and fabric biplane with a 90-hp OX engine, 

to the more complex Boeing B-29 Superfortress [1942], an all-metal long-range heavy bomber, sporting four 2,200-hp radical engines.2

7
The Army’s aviation branch changed in name and structure over 

the next 30 years as it continued to grow into its own distinct organization. 

Toward the end of World War I, the Aviation Section was redesignated as the 

Air Service via an executive order given by President Woodrow Wilson on 

20 May 1918. In its few months of combat action, the newly established Air 

Service conducted 150 separate bombing attacks, dropping roughly 138 tons 

of ordnance—some as far as 160 miles behind enemy lines in Germany. All 

told, the Air Service downed 756 enemy aircraft and 76 enemy balloons, while 

losing 289 airplanes and 48 balloons from the United States.8

Military aviation and the enlisted force continued to evolve. On 2 

July 1926, the Army unit was once again redesignated, this time as the Army Air 

Corps; it was redesignated again in 1941 as the Army Air Forces. Throughout 

this era of constant change, enlisted Airmen became more specialized. By the 

1930s, the Army Air Corps had organized all of the force’s enlisted specialty 

codes to fit within 12 categories: airplane and engine mechanics, aircraft radio 

mechanics and operators, aircraft instrument mechanics, clerks, stewards and 

cooks, aircraft metal workers, aircraft armorers, meteorologists, parachute 

riggers, auto mechanics, aircraft machinists, and aircraft photo technicians. 

The Army Air Forces expanded upon this structure by adapting a more detailed 

training regimen that enhanced specialization. In Foundations of the Force, 

Mark Grandstaff gives an example by describing the classification scheme for 

mechanics, which included eight functional groups and 47 subclassifications.9 

The Army also created new jobs in the areas of electronics, radar, and medicine. 

Enlisted members assumed more responsibilities; a few even crossed into 

careers mainly dominated by officers.

Though low in numbers, enlisted Airmen have served in unique 

positions throughout the history of aviation, to include brief stints as pilots.10

When the Air Force split from the Army in 1947 and became its own distinctive 

service, two enlisted pilots—Master Sgts. Tom Rafferty and George Holmes—

remained on active duty. Throughout the service’s history, the employment of 

enlisted pilots has been debated several times. In Generations of Chevrons, 

Bednarek states that ultimately “the Air Service, the Army Air Corps, the 

Army Air Forces, and the U.S. Air Force retained the elite vision of pilots that 

precluded the otherwise qualified enlisted members from finding a permanent 

role as enlisted pilots.”11 The idea remained relatively untouched until 

2015, when the Air Force announced a differentiation from that standard by 

outlining an initiative to integrate enlisted remotely piloted aircraft pilots into 

the intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance mission. In a 17 December 

2015 press release, Secretary of the Air Force Deborah Lee James discussed 

the decision to accept enlisted pilots into the RQ-4 Global Hawk community:

Our enlisted force is the best in the world and I am completely 

confident they will be able to do the job and do it well. The RPA [remotely 

piloted aircraft] enterprise is doing incredibly important work and this is the 

right decision to ensure the Air Force is positioned to support the future threat 

environment. Emerging requirements and combatant commander demands 

will only increase; therefore, we will position the service to provide warfighters 

and our nation the capability they deserve today and in the future. This action 

will make the most of the capabilities of our superb enlisted force in order 

to increase agility in addressing the ISR needs of the warfighter. Just as we 

integrated officer and enlisted crew positions in the space mission set, we will 

deliberately integrate enlisted pilots into the Global Hawk ISR community.12 

8
On 18 September 1947, the Air 

Force officially became an independent branch 

of the US military after the National Security Act 

of 1947 became law. Once separated from the 

Army and considered a coequal branch, the new 

service began to adopt its own set of regulations, 

customs, and training requirements, creating 

their own individual structure and eventually a 

unique heritage of aviation excellence.

Due to the Army Air Forces’s heavy 

involvement in World War II, much of the early 

structure had already been established at the 

time of the service’s independence. According 

to the Air Force Historical Research Agency: 

“Before 1939 the Army’s air arm was a fledgling 

organization; by the end of the war the Army Air 

Forces had become a major military organization 

comprised of many air forces, commands, 

divisions, wings, groups, and squadrons, plus an 

assortment of other organizations.”13

For the first decade, the Air Force 

fundamentally remained much the same as it 

had been prior to 1947, with the exception of 

a few notable changes. In 1950 Gen. Hoyt S. 

Vandenberg, the second Chief of Staff of the 

Air Force (CSAF), officially introduced a new 

term, Airman, to distinguish Air Force enlisted 

personnel from the Soldiers, Marines, and Sailors 

of other services.14 Playing upon this term two 

years later, the Air Force made another change, this 

time to their rank system. Initially, the Air Force 

had carried over and used the Army’s enlisted rank 

structure, but in 1952 it changed the lower four 

ranks from Soldier designations like “private” 

and “corporal” to more aviation-centric terms: 

(starting with E-1) airman basic; airman third 

class; airman second class; and airman first class.15

The rank structure continued to evolve as the Air 

Force progressed. The young services’ technical 

expertise also began to grow, both in training and 

in career options. As the Air Force diversified its 

combat capabilities over the decades, more career 

opportunities were created—by 2015, the number 

of available enlisted Air Force specialty codes 

surpassed 130.16

The Air Force continued to distance 

itself from the Army in 1959 when it discontinued 

the warrant officer program. Since becoming a 

separate service, the Air Force had struggled to 

find a place for warrant officers. Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force (CMSAF) Donald 

Harlow once commented that warrant officers 

were “neither fish nor fowl.”17 According to Air 

Force Regulation 36-72, Officer Personnel, 2 

June 1953, warrant officers filled superintendent 

Air Force Specialty Codes and positions that 

required qualifications beyond those of master 

sergeants. However, warrant officers were often 

not available to fill the superintendent positions, 

and master sergeants assumed the duties.

A year earlier, in 1958, Congress 

had granted the Air Force permission to establish 

two new enlisted grades: E-8 and E-9. Prior to 

the change, the highest rank an enlisted Airman 

could attain was an E-7 master sergeant. This 

led to an abundance of E-7s; master sergeants 

often supervised master sergeants who 

supervised master sergeants. By approving the 

two new grades, Congress hoped to delineate 

responsibilities in the enlisted structure and 

resolve enlisted retention issues due to a lack of 

promotion opportunities. On 1 September 1958, 

2,000 Airmen were promoted to senior master 

sergeant, and the first chief master sergeants were 

promoted from that group the following year.

The two new grades led the Air 

Force to reconsider the warrant officer position. 

The Vice Chief of Staff of the Air Force, 

Gen. Curtis LeMay, initiated a review of the 

position by forming an ad hoc committee in 

1958. The committee determined that warrant 

officers amounted to an added layer of supervision 

between officers and noncommissioned officers 

(NCO) that was unnecessary for mission 

accomplishment, and that using E-8s and E-9s to 

A SEPARATE SERVICE

9
fill superintendent positions was significantly less expensive than using 

warrant officers to perform similar duties.18 The following year General 

LeMay approved the recommendation and officially announced the decision 

to discontinue the warrant officer program. 

The creation of the senior and chief master sergeant ranks 

also marked the very beginning of the transition to a professional enlisted 

force. Senior NCOs assumed leadership positions and began to focus on 

leadership skills. Although the transition to a professional force would 

slowly progress over time, the first CMSAF commented that the transition 

can be traced back to a greater focus on leadership: “In the late 1950s, we 

started the United States Air Force as we know it today. We started to lead 

people, not drive them, and it was a decided change that slowly but surely 

evolved.”19

As the Air Force continued to evolve during its first two 

decades as a separate service, the recruitment and retention of highly skilled 

enlisted Airmen became a priority. Air Force leaders began to focus on 

quality-of-life issues and ways to make a career and benefits in the military 

comparable to those in the civilian sector. Leadership began to address 

several key issues, such as competitive pay, retirement options, medical 

care, and housing. As Bednarek points out in Generations of Chevrons, “At 

points, progress would be made. But then larger forces—the Vietnam War, 

inflation, fluctuating defense budgets—often contributed to a renewed 

decline in conditions.”20

The elimination of the selective service draft and the 

introduction of the all-volunteer force in 1973 put quality of life issues 

back at the forefront. It also had arguably the greatest impact on the 

quality and professionalism of enlisted Airmen. Although the Air Force 

did not have to draft enlisted Airmen, many of its members had joined the 

Air Force to avoid joining the other services. According to CMSAF Eric 

Benken, the transition to the all-volunteer force was “when we started . . . 

the beginnings of all of the talk about the professional force we have today. 

Because now you have people who are volunteers. So now first sergeants 

don’t have to focus every day on the discipline issues. They don’t have to 

focus on kicking people out of the service and all that. Now they can focus 

on quality of life.”21

In the 40-plus years since the all-volunteer force became a 

reality, enlisted Airmen have developed into the most professional NCO 

corps around the world. There are many reasons for the professional 

development, including the implementation and evolution of the Weighted 

Airman Promotion System, Enlisted Professional Military Education, the 

Community College of the Air Force, and the Enlisted Evaluation System.

10
THE DIVERSE 

MAKEUP OF THE 

US AIR FORCE

Modern diversity within the Air Force, still a work in progress, 

has come a long way since the branches’ earliest inception. To get to where it 

is today, the service had to first overcome many barriers, especially concerning 

the integration and equal treatment of African-Americans and overall inclusion 

of women in the Air Force.

The Tuskegee Airmen, decorated African–American pilots from 

the Army Air Forces, are famous for breaking down many of the racial barriers 

experienced by black people in the military. At the time, African-American’s 

were segregated into their own squadrons. Treated differently, they did not 

receive many of the same career opportunities and resources awarded to 

other ethnic groups. The contributions of the Tuskegee Airmen were further 

compounded by other enlisted African–American Airmen, who during their 

early history in the service demonstrated that skin color had nothing to do 

with proving a person’s capabilities.

As a move to cut down on intolerant practices within the US 

military, Pres. Harry S. Truman signed Executive Order 9981 on 26 July 

1948. Under the order, Truman declared that, from then on out, there would 

be “equal treatment and opportunity for all persons in the armed services 

without regard to race, color, religion or national origin.”22

A few months earlier, the Air Force had begun to study the 

impact of segregation on its ability to accomplish the mission effectively. 

Lt. Gen. Idwal H. Edwards, Air Force Deputy Chief of Staff for Personnel, 

directed Lt Col Jack Marr, a staff officer in the office of Air Force personnel, 

to study the issue. In the end, the study found waste and inefficiency in only 

employing African-Americans in certain capacities.

The study influenced Gen. Carl A. Spaatz, the first CSAF, to 

issue a statement on integration in April 1948. Spaatz promised that Air 

Force African-Americans would soon be “used on a broader professional scale 

than has obtained heretofore.” He stated that all Airmen would be guaranteed 

equal opportunity regardless of race and that “the ultimate Air Force objective 

must be to eliminate segregation among its personnel by the unrestricted use 

of Negro personnel in free competition for any duty within the Air Force for 

which they may qualify.”23

A year later, on 11 May 1949, the Air Force officially released 

letter No. 35-3 stating, “There shall be equality of treatment and opportunity 

in the Air Force without regard to race, color, religion or national origin.” 

Integration of units began immediately, and on 1 June 1949, Air Force basic 

training officially ended racial segregation, assigning recruits to squadrons by 

gender and time of arrival only.

Thomas N. Barnes joined the Air Force in 1949 and was in one of 

the last segregated flights of basic training. He became an aircraft maintainer 

specializing in hydraulics and was the first African-American in his unit. 

Twenty-four years later, he became the fourth enlisted member appointed 

as the CMSAF and the first African-American to hold the position. While 

in office from 1973–77, Barnes made many notable contributions to the 

evolution of the enlisted force, but in many ways he is known for his greatest 

passion: working to ensure equality among the great Airmen comprising the 

US Air Force. One of the most common questions Barnes heard during his 

early tenure was, “What programs will you implement for blacks?” To which 

he recalled replying, “None. I told them I worked for all blue suiters.”24

Barnes was anything but alone in his conviction for an inclusive 

Air Force. In the 1970s and 1980s, the Air Force was still combatting echoes 

of racial discrimination but also began to purposefully move toward gender 

equality. In 1948, the Women’s Armed Service Act of 1948 allowed women 

to lawfully serve in the armed forces, but they could only make up two percent 

of the service and only could serve in a handful of jobs. In 1967, when Paul 

Airey was appointed the first CMSAF, there were only 5,000 authorized 

enlisted women positions in the Air Force.25

As time progressed, women were given more career 

opportunities, and their numbers rose to 10 percent of the force by 1979. 

Still, there was more to be done to fully integrate women into the service. 

11
For the most part, this was supported 

by the Air Force’s highest enlisted 

leadership. CMSAF Robert Gaylor 

was one of the many supportive voices:

People should have 

the opportunity to do that for 

which they have been trained and 

prepared, and which fits their 

desires. . . . I think we just have 

to ensure our people are given an 

opportunity. If they can’t cut it, 

regardless of race, creed, color or 

sex then someone else should be 

in there, but they should be given a 

chance to show whether they can do 

it or cannot do it.26

In the past decade, 

the Air Force—along with the entire 

Department of Defense—has gone 

to great lengths to make sure service 

members from all backgrounds 

and demographics feel included 

and valued. Some of the biggest 

initiatives in recent years were 

the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t 

Tell,” in September 2011, which 

allowed gay military members to 

serve openly in the armed forces. 

To better support military mothers, 

the Air Force extended maternity 

leave from six weeks to 12 weeks 

and extended deferments for 

deployment and physical fitness 

tests from six months after childbirth 

to 12. Another momentous change 

came on 3 December 2015, when 

Secretary of Defense Ash Carter 

announced that, beginning in 

2016, all military occupations 

and positions would be opened to 

women. According to Secretary of 

the Air Force Deborah Lee James, 

this declaration opens up 4,000 

jobs for females in the Air Force 

across six career fields.27

12
According to James, progress has been 

made in this endeavor to welcome diversity, but “We 

(the Air Force) can do better,” she said.28 To cement 

their commitment to improving upon conditions for 

tomorrow’s Airmen, Air Force’s top leadership in 

2015—CSAF Gen Mark A. Welsh III, CMSAF James 

A. Cody, and Secretary James—signed a memorandum 

on diversity and inclusion that read in part:

Across the force, diversity of 

background, experience, demographics, perspective, 

thought and even organization are essential to our 

ultimate success in an increasingly competitive and 

dynamic global environment. As airpower advocates, 

we must be culturally competent and operationally 

relevant to effectively accomplish our various 

missions. As Airmen, whether military or civilian, we 

must continue to build and maintain our commitment 

to diversity, inclusion and the associated promise 

of enhanced mission performance. These concepts 

infuse innovation and forward thinking into our 

culture and mission areas and resonate within our 

service’s core values demonstrating that integrity 

first, service before self, and excellence in all we do 

are part of our character.29

Though it continues to be a young 

service, the Air Force and its enlisted Airmen have 

made a name for themselves over the years as an aerial 

force to be reckoned with. They are professional 

Airmen, committed to service in the profession of 

arms that requires a commitment to dignity and 

respect for all who choose to serve. Enlisted Airmen 

have evolved from the first mechanics working on the 

Wright Model A to today’s enlisted force made up of 

395,000 professional Airmen in the active duty Air 

Force, Air National Guard, and Air Force Reserve.30

Each conflict or war entered into by US Airmen—

from the first air missions in World War I through 

Vietnam, the Cold War, Operation Desert Storm, and 

up to today’s Global War on Terror—have provided 

the experience and knowledge to strengthen the 

force of the future. The combat experience of today’s 

enlisted Airmen, combined with their professional 

development gleaned through training and education, 

highlights just how far the enlisted force has evolved 

since its inception and just how far Airmen can carry 

the force into the future.

1. Air Force Historical Research Agency, 

The Birth of the United States Air Force, 

9 January 2008, http://www.afhra.

af.mil/About-Us/Fact-Sheets/Display/

Article/433914/the-birth-of-the-unitedstates-air-force/

2. Janet R. Bednarek, ed., Generations 

of Chevrons: A History of the Enlisted 

Force (Washington, DC: Air Force 

History and Museums Program, 2004), 

2–3, http://media.defense.gov/2010/

May/26/2001330290/-1/-1/0/AFD100526-031.pdf.

3. Air Force Historical Research Agency, 

“Pancho Villa Attacks New Mexico,” 8 

April 2015, http://www.nationalmuseum.

af.mil/Visit/MuseumExhibits/FactSheets/

Display/tabid/509/Article/197470/

pancho-villa-attacks-new-mexico.aspx.

4. Ibid.

5. Randy Roughton, “100 Years of Flying,” 

Airman, 4 March 2013, http://airman.

dodlive.mil/2013/03/100-years-of-flying/.

6. Department of the Air Force, The Airman 

Handbook, para 2.2.2, (Washington, DC: 

Office of the Chief of Staff, October 2015), 

66.

7. Ibid., para 2.2.4, 66.

8. Air Force Historical Research Agency, Birth 

of the United States Air Force.

9. Mark A. Grandstaff, Foundation of the 

Force: Air Force Enlisted Personnel Policy 

1907–1956 (Washington, DC: Air Force 

History and Museums Program, 1997), 43.

10. Bednarek, Generations of Chevrons, 2–3.

11. Ibid., 9.

12. Secretary of the Air Force Public Affairs, 

“AF Introduces Enlisted Global Hawk 

Pilots,” 17 December 2015, http://www.

af.mil/News/ArticleDisplay/tabid/223/

Article/637192/af-introduces-enlistedglobal-hawk-pilots.aspx.

13. Air Force Historical Research Agency, Birth 

of the United States Air Force.

14. TSgt Barry L. Spink, “A Chronology of the 

Enlisted Rank Chevron of the United States 

Air Force,” Air Force Historical Research 

Agency, February 1992, http://www.afhra.

af.mil/Portals/16/documents/Studies/

AFD-090611-103.pdf.

15. Airman Handbook, para 1.12.3, 34.

Notes:

16. This is according to the Air Force Enlisted 

Classification Directory. 

17. Janet R. Bednarek, ed., The Enlisted 

Experience: A Conversation with the 

Chief Master Sergeants of the Air Force 

(Washington, DC: Air Force History 

and Museums Program, 1995), 77, 

http://media.defense.gov/2010/

May/26/2001330288/-1/-1/0/AFD100526-028.pdf.

18. History of Directorate of Personnel 

Planning, Deputy Chief of Staff, Personnel, 

Washington DC: Headquarters, US Air 

Force, 1 July 1958–31 December 1958.

19. Bednarek, Enlisted Experience, 73.

20. Bednarek, Generations of Chevrons, 20.

21. CMSAF Eric Benken, interview with the 

author, 29 August 2015.

22. Pres. Harry S. Truman, Executive Order 

9981 (scanned copy, Harry S. Truman 

Library and Museum, Independence, 

MO), https://www.trumanlibrary.org/

photos/9981a.jpg.

23. Alan L. Gropman, The Air Force Integrates: 

1945–1964 (Washington, DC: Office of Air 

Force History, 1985).

24. Department of the Air Force, Airman 

Handbook, para 9.10.7.4.2, 218.

25. Bednarek, Enlisted Experience, 137.

26. Bednarek, Generations of Chevrons, 30.

27. Deborah L. James, “Remarks at the Women 

in Aviation International Conference,” Air 

Force News, 11 March 2016, http://www.

af.mil/Portals/1/documents/031116-

SecAF%20Women%20in%20Aviation%20

International%20Conference.pdf.

28. TSgt Anthony A. Nelson Jr., “SecAF 

Introduces Diversity Initiatives,” Air 

Force News, 4 March 2015, http://www.

af.mil/News/ArticleDisplay/tabid/223/

Article/578862/secaf-introduces-diversityinitiatives.aspx.

29. Deborah L. James, Secretary of the Air 

Force; Gen Mark A. Welsh III, CSAF; and 

CMSAF James A. Cody, to all Airmen, 

memorandum, subject: Air Force Diversity 

& Inclusion, http://www.af.mil/Portals/1/

documents/SECAF/FINALDiversity_

Inclusion_Memo1.pdf.

30. Number current as of August 2015.

13
The strength and 

capability of our enlisted corps is the 

envy of nations around the globe. There 

are countless requests through the 

Department of State each year asking 

the Air Force to send representatives 

to foreign nations to share our enlisted 

developmental master plan. How do 

we produce such capable Airmen? We 

put our enlisted Airmen in challenging 

jobs and hand them responsibilities 

that most militaries reserve only for 

their officers. We can do this because 

we recruit talented young men and 

women and deliberately develop them 

through training, education, and 

experience. While technical training 

is a key ingredient to our success, our 

investment in education and professional 

development separates the US Air Force 

enlisted corps—specifically, our enlisted 

professional military education (EPME).

Education has not always 

been a strength of our enlisted Airmen. 

Early in our Air Force’s history, we were 

laser focused on training and experience. 

It is impossible to objectively answer why 

this was the case, but there are several 

intuitive reasons. First, compared to 

contemporary standards, we recruited 

from a pool of less-educated young men 

and women. Second, our technology 

and weapon systems were far less 

complex. Consider the career of our 

first Chief Master Sergeant of the Air 

Force (CMSAF). When a young Paul 

Airey entered the Army Air Corps in 

1940, our primary bomber was powered 

by propellers. Compare that with our 

Air Force in 1970, the sunset of Chief 

Airey’s career. Jet engines, long-range 

missiles, mission capabilities in space, 

and computer technology defined an 

entirely different and much more techsavvy Air Force.1 Third, the geopolitical 

environment itself was simpler. The 

Cold War was the manifestation of a 

bipolar world; it was no less frightening, 

but much simpler than the numerous 

rogue nation states and potential threats 

that loom over us today. That meant 

Airmen enjoyed a level of predictability 

in everyday operations that lent itself 

to the strengths of training versus the 

more nuanced capabilities that come 

with education.

an 

unfinished 

journey

air force enlisted professional military education

written by 

CMSgt Timothy Horn 

14
Furthermore, the size of the force meant most enlisted 

Airmen could focus on their core job. Only the most seasoned and 

experienced noncommissioned officers (NCO) were assigned leadership 

responsibilities, and very few had any education beyond high school. Years 

later, as the Cold War came to a close, the force began to dramatically 

reduce our enlisted manpower. Leadership responsibility, by necessity, 

was pushed further down to more junior Airmen. Suddenly mid-level 

NCOs were expected to lead.

Over time, our world has grown more complex, and our Air 

Force has responded accordingly—particularly in the increasing demands 

we have placed on our enlisted Airmen. While training was absolutely 

critical to the demanding and often highly technical duties our Airmen 

executed on a daily basis—and remains essential to our success today—

education became more necessary in order to prepare Airmen to operate 

in an ever-changing and unpredictable environment. Over time, our Air 

Force began to deliberately encourage and reward off-duty education. 

When Chief Rodney J. McKinley became the CMSAF in 2006, for 

example, he highly encouraged Airmen to earn their Community College 

of the Air Force (CCAF) degree earlier in their careers. The number of 

enlisted Airmen with an associate’s degree has doubled in the past 20 

years; the number of baccalaureate degrees has also doubled. The CCAF 

is conferring record numbers of associate’s degrees and has recently 

reached a milestone of 450,000. While this is an impressive trend, it is 

imperative we shape this educational investment toward competencies 

the Air Force values and needs. Over time, EPME has done just that.

THE BIRTH OF EPME

The birth and evolution of EPME paralleled the increasing 

trends for postsecondary education. In 1951 Air Training Command 

split flying and technical training into two distinct organizations to meet 

the increasing demands due to the Korean War. The technical training 

component became the Technical Training Air Force (TTAF). One year 

later, a letter from Headquarters TTAF established the requirement for 

NCO leadership development within the technical training community. 

There was increasing recognition that “technical skill . . . alone did not 

meet the overall qualifications for noncommissioned Airmen.”

2

 TTAF’s 

initiative, however, was not the first of its kind; this historical distinction 

belongs to the US Air Forces in Europe (USAFE). Established in 1950, 

the Academy of Leadership and Management in Wiesbaden, West 

Germany, educated and developed enlisted men and women throughout 

USAFE. While there were several other similar experiments across the 

Air Force at the time, TTAF’s effort was the seed corn for EPME as we 

know it today.

During the 1950s, numerous organizations throughout 

the Air Force created their own schoolhouses and academies. 

Commanders and other leaders began to more fully appreciate the benefit 

of investing in our NCOs by providing them with these professional

General Curtis E. LeMay

Commander of Strategic Air Command

15
developmental opportunities. Perhaps the most celebrated Air Force leader 

to get behind this effort was Gen. Curtis E. LeMay, then commander of 

Strategic Air Command (SAC). On 26 January 1953, General LeMay issued 

SAC General Order 10, creating an official command-wide EPME program. 

The April 1955 edition of Air Force Magazine featured a full-length article 

on one of SAC’s NCO academies. It described a school that was notably 

more “military” than the education-centric programs we have today. The 

students endured numerous room inspections, uniform assessments, and 

hours of drill practice in addition to classroom lectures and other activities. 

When the students were asked if the Air Force should expand the NCO 

Academy program, their response was overwhelmingly enthusiastic.

3

While the Air Force as an institution was not quite ready to make such 

an investment, other major commands (MAJCOM) were unwilling to wait 

and began following SAC’s example. Soon there were leadership schools 

and NCO academies throughout the Air Force. By late 1955, academies 

had been established at six Air Force bases around the globe.

4

 Curriculum 

at these schools, however, continued to be locally developed; quality and 

content varied wildly.

Major commands tended to develop lesson plans suited 

to their unique mission requirements or aligned to their organizational 

culture and priorities. NCOs might attend a school accentuating drill and 

ceremonies in one command, while their peers were getting a heavy dose of 

personnel management in another. This model met the needs and desires 

of respective commanders, but it wasn’t long before savvy Air Force leaders 

realized the need for consistency. Centrally developing and assigning 

specific course content eliminated disparate priorities and established 

standardization and professionalism. Furthermore, it eliminated the often 

redundant educational experience that Airmen received when moving from 

one command to another. In 1955 one particular innovation provided 

a wellspring for all future EPME courses: the creation of a formalized 

enlisted force structure, complete with defined responsibilities for each 

tier and rank. Never before had such clear roles and responsibilities been 

articulated. Later that year, Air Force regulation 39-6, The Enlisted Force 

Structure, was approved. The Enlisted Force Structure has had a profound 

influence on EPME curricula ever since.

INSTITUTIONALIZING DEVELOPMENTAL EDUCATION

Chief of Staff of the Air Force (CSAF) Gen. Nathan F. Twining 

signed Air Force regulation 50-39, Air Force Enlisted Professional Military 

Education, on 30 January 1957. The new regulation was the starting gun 

for a decade of increased standardization. The content of AFR 50-39 was 

largely the result of a conference the year prior, attended by representatives 

from several of the major NCO academies. The overarching theme of the 

conference was eliminating the inconsistencies of course curriculum. 

While MAJCOMs continued to develop their own EPME courses, the policy 

revision in 1960 limited the curriculum to only the specific topics listed in 

the regulation.

5

16
The one notable exception to this rule was the establishment 

of an Air National Guard (ANG) NCO Academy at McGhee Tyson ANG 

Base in Knoxville, Tennessee, in the late 1960s. This entire effort was the 

brainchild of Maj. Gen. I. G. Brown, the first ANG director. In 1966 General 

Brown was invited by the NCO Academy at Hamilton AFB, California, to be 

their graduation speaker. He came away so impressed by the experience—

and by the vice commandant, CMSgt Paul H. Lankford—that he hired 

the chief as part of a team to create an NCO academy specifically for the 

Guard.

6

 Both the general and the chief have become part of our rich total 

force heritage; their legacy lives on through the Paul H. Lankford EPME 

Center and its parent organization, the I. G. Brown Training and Education 

Center—both located at McGhee Tyson ANG Base.

As the drive for standardization settled into a more incremental 

pace, other efforts began to emerge that further institutionalized EPME 

across the Air Force. For example, an update to AFR 50-39 authorized 

graduates from PME to receive an official letter of recognition and entitled 

those Airmen to wear the NCO Academy Graduate Ribbon (the ribbon was 

created in 1962, but clear approval of who could wear it did not occur until 

1970). Several schools that had been shut down due to conflicting budget 

priorities were reopened, including the NCO Academy at Barksdale AFB, 

Louisiana. This particular schoolhouse was reopened by a senior NCO who 

would go on to become the fifth CMSAF, Robert D. Gaylor. Chief Gaylor 

had been an honor graduate of the same academy in 1965, then went on to 

serve as an instructor until it closed the following year. Less than two years 

later, he was called upon to reopen the schoolhouse doors.

7

 These fits and 

starts were, unfortunately, typical of the time.

Another CMSAF, from an earlier time, featured prominently 

in our EPME heritage. In 1967 Chief Paul Airey was trailblazing this brand 

new position called the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. Among many 

important enlisted issues of the time, he decided to take on the expansion 

of PME, articulating the need for a higher level of development through a 

Senior NCO Academy (SNCOA). According to Chief Airey, Air Force 

leadership did not embrace this effort and were emphatic in their position, 

citing a lack of available funds.

8

 Three years later as the CMSAF baton 

was passed from Chief Airey to Donald L. Harlow and again to Richard D. 

Kisling, the environment was growing ripe for change. “We had become too 

sophisticated and centralized,” said Chief Kisling. “We expected people to 

be highly technical specialists, supervisors, and NCOs, without the benefit 

of adequate training and experience. We needed to develop our NCOs like 

our officers. . . . We needed a first-class PME system for our enlisted force.”9 

Chief Kisling finally worked through the funding challenges 

and received approval to establish a SNCO Academy; however, he still 

had one hurdle to overcome. There were certain voices advocating for the 

new academy to be for first sergeants only—a decision he thought “would 

be wrong for the entire Air Force.”10 Finally, once this battle was won—

and the original intent was made clear—he saw the plan come to fruition. 

In 1972 CSAF Gen. John Ryan signed US Air Force Decision Number 

D-72-8, formally establishing the SNCOA. (In 1986, the main building 

that housed the SNCO Academy was named Kisling Hall in his honor.)11 

CMSAF Richard D. Kisling

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force

17
This became the highest level of EPME until the creation of the Chief’s 

Leadership Course in 2005, over 30 years later. In a post retirement 

interview, CMSAF Don Harlow proudly spoke of his hard work and 

advocacy toward this effort. In his final assessment, “I thought it was the 

greatest thing we ever did.”12 The inaugural class graduated on 3 March 

1973. Among the 120 graduates were three future CMSAFs: Thomas N. 

Barnes, James M. McCoy, and Sam E. Parish.

Although new policies helped institutionalize EPME, the 

early 1970s were still a time of measured growth and uneven grass roots 

efforts across the Air Force. In fact, future CMSAF Robert D. Gaylor 

was transferred to USAFE in 1971 for the sole purpose of building an ad 

hoc professional development experience for their NCOs. Chief Gaylor 

recalls this effort:

“I would have preferred to activate a full-scale NCO academy 

in USAFE, but we had neither the funds nor [the] facility. As an interim 

[measure], we established the Command Management Center at Lindsey 

Air Force Station [Germany]. We renovated an old building to house 

students and presented a sixty-hour course of instruction on leadership/

management skills, communicative skills, and contemporary issues to 

hundreds of USAFE NCOs from throughout the command.”13

The demand for the education was unmistakable. Chief 

Gaylor noted that “our reputation was so high that NCOs were begging 

for a slot. Our center was the forerunner to the eventual opening of the 

USAFE NCO academy in 1975.”14

The introduction of AFR 50-39 advanced the ongoing 

effort to develop a more homogenous curriculum. It specified required 

subjects, and established educational objectives and samples of behavior 

for each of the five levels of EPME. Individual schools still wrote their 

own curriculum, but it was mandated that course content support the 

required educational objectives and samples of behavior construct. This 

not only impacted content but also introduced a level of academic rigor 

that had been previously absent. In many ways, EPME began to look very 

much like we know it today. Additional supporting policy changes were 

also underway.

On 1 June 1976, as a requirement to assume NCO status, 

senior airmen were required to complete the NCO Orientation Course 

during their first year as an E-4 (this was when the Air Force had two E-4 

ranks, senior airman and sergeant). PME was no longer a “nice-to-have”—

it was woven into the fabric of an enlisted Airman’s career.15 The NCO 

Orientation and NCO Supervisor Course [PME 1 & 2] became the first 

serious effort to regulate curriculum from a centralized organization. To 

enable this new undertaking, the Air Force established the NCO PME 

Division at the Leadership and Management Development Center (LMDC)—

later renamed the Center for Professional Development at Air University—

and charged it with writing the course curriculum for the entire force. 

18
Later, in the mid-1980s, the Air Force combined PME 1 and 

2 and created a preparatory course for E-4s with a focus on supervision 

and leadership. The course also was notably more challenging, 

with the introduction of formalized testing and more stringent 

graduation requirements.16

THE EPME CONFERENCES OF 1980 AND 1985

There have been symposiums and conferences throughout 

the history of EPME, but two major conferences during the 1980s were 

particularly pivotal in shaping significant policy decisions that defined 

EPME for decades to come. The first, heralded as the 1980 Biennial 

NCO PME Conference, addressed a staggering 116 recommendations, 

ultimately approving 37 for implementation.17 The conference goals 

were varied and aggressive; attendees were asked to establish annual 

requirements for in-resident attendance at all EPME schools, develop 

manpower standards, optimize quota sharing between MAJCOMs, better 

integrate EPME with other training requirements, and adjust curriculum 

based upon the typical tasks that enlisted members perform at various 

levels in their career progression. While the EPME enterprise still 

consisted of individually owned schools across the major commands, the 

rule sets, policies, and curriculum became increasingly centralized.

CMSAF James M. McCoy participated in this conference. 

He had much to offer, as he had held multiple EPME jobs throughout his 

career, including instructor, commandant, course developer, and staff 

action officer. When he was assigned to headquarters, SAC, he established 

and provided oversight to the SAC NCO Academy and NCO Leadership 

programs. As CMSAF McCoy closed the conference, attendees reviewed 

some of the approved changes “to include allowing more members to 

attend, to more evenly space PME throughout a career and to minimize 

redundancy between phases.”18 They also approved the development 

of a formal awards and recognition program. Numerous initiatives, on 

the other hand, were rejected outright, including awarding promotion 

points to graduates, administering reading tests prior to attendance, 

giving volunteers preferential selections, developing a distance learning 

program for the NCO Leadership School, and providing special duty pay 

for instructors. Many of the issues raised in this symposium were discussed 

and debated further in a conference that took place five years later.

One of our future CMSAFs—Jim Finch—taught enlisted PME 

as a young NCO during this time. Chief Finch started as an NCO Orientation 

Course instructor in 1980 and eventually became the director of education 

at the Homestead PME Center. As an instructor and faculty member, he 

became very familiar with the issues from the 1980 conference; in fact, the 

Homestead PME Center hosted a similar conference in 1984. One specific 

topic became a major concern through the 1980s: the accreditation process. 

19
Some schools, such as Homestead, had already been independently 

accredited by the Southern Association of Colleges and Schools; they 

lost credit hours once they were centralized and became affiliates of 

CCAF. While the evolving affiliation process eventually led to a much 

better result, the growing pains were frustrating and required hard work 

and effort.

CMSAF Finch’s contribution to EPME continued throughout 

his entire career. After writing local curriculum for the Homestead NCO 

Leadership School, he worked at Air University—first writing course 

content, then teaching at the instructor course. In 1988 he became the Air 

Force PME functional manager and worked many of the issues discussed 

in these conferences. One of the more important policy efforts he worked 

on was finding a way to make the SNCO Academy a master sergeant 

school. While initially successful, a growing promotion rate and increased 

attendance from Total Force and sister service members made continuing 

the policy problematic. There simply was not enough capacity, and the cost 

was too high. The idea of moving SNCO Academy attendance “to the left” 

continued to be both a desire and a challenge for many years. In his very 

next assignment, Chief Finch put the policies he had been working on into 

action as the commandant, Pacific Air Forces NCO Academy at Elmendorf 

AFB, Alaska.19

In 1983, while Jim Finch was still learning the ropes as a 

director of education, Chief Sam Parish became the CMSAF. Two years 

later, he put his stamp on EPME through the 1985 NCO PME Policy 

Conference, hosted by the very NCO Academy that CMSAF McCoy 

helped establish. The core of this conference was the debate over whether 

students who failed to meet the 70-percent academic standard should 

be eliminated from the course and, subsequently, no longer eligible for 

promotion. As mentioned previously, the Air Force was beginning to levy 

more leadership responsibilities on mid-level NCOs around this time. To 

that end, the “whole person concept” was born, stressing the importance 

of learning more than one’s primary job. An enlisted leader must also gain 

expertise in leadership, supervision, communication, and other elements of 

professional development.

Several other topics with long-term implications were 

addressed as well, including opportunity rates for in-resident attendance. 

The momentum was shifting from a capacity-based model to one centered 

on Air Force needs. The attendees recommended a goal of 95-percent 

opportunity for E-5s to attend NCO Leadership School by their ninth year 

of service and 89-percent rate for E-6s to attend by their 15th year. Other 

issues included decisions on the weight management program, the overseas 

EPME quota process, standardizing course length across the MAJCOMs, 

and using the academic models of psychomotor and affective domains 

developed by the renowned education expert Norman Gronlund.20 This last 

decision demonstrates the increased sophistication in course development 

that would strengthen EPME in the near future.

20
Although not part of the 1985 NCO PME Conference, 

there was one more noteworthy change in the mid-1980s. Established 

largely thanks to the advocacy of CMSAF Parish, the John Levitow Award 

is perhaps the most recognized honor among enlisted Airmen. A1C John 

Levitow received the Medal of Honor on 14 May 1970 for his heroic actions 

during Vietnam. When President Richard Nixon presented Levitow with his 

medal, he was the only enlisted Airman to receive this honor since the Air 

Force became a separate service. For Chief Parish, naming this award after 

Airman Levitow accomplished two goals. First, it created an appropriately 

professional level of recognition beyond honor graduate. Second, he 

thought “it would be a great way for the enlisted force to learn a little of our 

enlisted history—and to get his name known by all enlisted members.”21

ELEVATED STATUS AND FOCUS ON CURRICULUM

The 1990s brought legitimacy and an elevated status to 

EPME. There was a flurry of activity and an enterprise-wide spotlight on 

enlisted programs. One key initiative—the result of the 1990 NCO PME 

Conference hosted by CMSAF James C. Binnicker—combined the first two 

levels of EPME, removing the NCO Leadership School and replacing and 

expanding the NCO Preparatory Course with Airman Leadership School 

(ALS). (Not coincidentally, renaming the first level of EPME came on the 

heels of eliminating the E-4 sergeant rank.)22 All senior airmen were required 

to graduate from ALS before assuming the role of supervisor with rater 

responsibilities. The initiative also mandated 100 percent attendance to 

resident PME. Resource streams previously unavailable suddenly broke free. 

Schoolhouses around the Air Force began to receive the funding necessary 

to finally upgrade computers, classroom equipment, and furniture. Enlisted 

PME schools across the Air Force were beginning to look and feel more 

professional. In short, it made a difference. One year later, Air University 

stood up the College of EPME (CEPME), today called the Thomas N. Barnes 

Center for Enlisted Education. This was a wing equivalent organization, 

much like Air War College or Air Command and Staff College. Suddenly, 

EPME was a near-peer to their officer counterparts. The new organization 

was officially assigned the responsibility for standardized curriculum and 

governance across the Air Force. 

Although CEPME stood up in 1991, the MAJCOMs continued 

to own and operate NCO academies well into 1992. MAJCOMs controlled 

production rates and owned the seats, which forced students to travel further 

to attend their MAJCOM-owned facilities rather than attending a perfectly 

good school nearer to their home station. This was a problem during the 

1980s and continued into the early 1990s. In an attempt to offset these costs, 

the Air Force hosted annual “quota sharing” conferences to trade seats and 

save money. By 1990 these became “quota distribution” conferences, and 

in 1992, the Air Force automated the process to further shift the focus on 

cost and efficiency. Numerous audits of the NCO PME program indicated 

waste in temporary duty dollars due to MAJCOM desires to fill their own 

NCOA seats. Consequently, there was considerable pressure to develop 

centralized curriculum and put the NCO academies under one command. 

21
In 1993 this became a reality for the continental United States NCO 

academies when they were officially realigned from the MAJCOMs to Air 

University.23 With centralized control finally secured, the next area of 

debate was course content. What should we teach our enlisted Airmen?

As one might imagine, the answer to this question was 

contentious and discussed with vigor by our most senior leaders—both 

officers and enlisted. There are dozens of lessons that existed in 1990 

that are no longer taught in our classrooms. Topics like “Respect for the 

Flag,” “Communism,” and “Drug and Alcohol Abuse” reflect the culture 

and geopolitical environment of the time. Other subjects were timeless: 

“Standards and Discipline,” “Professional Relations,” and “Leadership 

and Management.”24 The Enlisted Force Development Panel—part of the 

Air Force corporate process—wrestled with a list of educational outcomes 

but came to realize there should be a separate process whereby certain 

institutional competencies are assigned to Airmen based on their current 

or projected grade. These competencies—for all Airmen—have matured and 

evolved. They are now part of Air Force Instruction 36-2618, The Enlisted 

Force Structure, and have been folded into our Air Force leadership 

doctrine, becoming the engine that drives EPME content. All competencies 

are integrated into each course so Airmen develop the competence, 

confidence, and courage to execute assigned responsibilities mandated by 

The Enlisted Force Structure.

From an organizational and structural point of view, EPME 

has remained fairly stable over the past 15–20 years. Nearly every base 

still has an Airman Leadership School; there are a dozen NCO academies 

across the globe; and there is still the one and only SNCOA, established in 

1972. A few programs, however, have sprung up to augment and round out 

enlisted development. One such program that still exists today was the NCO 

Professional Development Seminar, a legacy of CMSAF Eric W. Benken in 

the late 1990s. As for PME, there were certainly discussions about policy 

and content, but, for the most part, it was characterized by consistency, 

becoming part of our Air Force culture and an essential building block to a 

successful enlisted career.

CMSAF ADVOCACY AND THE WAY AHEAD

The consistent involvement of our top enlisted leaders in 

EPME clearly demonstrates the importance it has had—and continues to 

have—in enlisted development. It is impossible—and beyond the scope of 

this chapter—to properly pay homage to each CMSAF and the role they 

played in the advancement of EPME. “Firsts” and major organizational and 

policy changes dominate the narrative because there is a tangible historical 

record to reference.

CMSAF Thomas N. Barnes

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force

22
When CMSAF Thomas N. Barnes assumed his responsibilities 

as the CMSAF in 1973, he found an Air Force that lacked a real commitment 

to EPME. In his estimation, the entire effort was put on hold during the 

Vietnam War. Of his exhaustive list of contributions to the Air Force during 

his tenure, Chief Barnes was most proud to be a champion for EPME. 

Decades later, during the budget crisis of 2012, CMSAF James A. Roy 

passionately protected and defended enlisted force development programs 

from potentially devastating cuts. His advocacy ensured EPME survived the 

ill effects of the Budget Control Act of 2011. 

Other changes, though significant, are often known only by 

a few people. For example, CMSAF Gerald R. Murray’s impact on EPME 

was profound but less direct; he ensured our enlisted Airmen had the right 

training and cultural mind-set to take on the increasing expeditionary nature 

of the Air Force in the early 2000s. He did not accomplish this through 

specific policy changes but through leadership. His influence on EPME 

curriculum was noteworthy and had a substantial effect on enlisted Airmen. 

Depending on the challenges and priorities at the time, just keeping the 

schoolhouse doors open could be considered a notable accomplishment.

When CMSAF James A. Cody was selected as the 17th CMSAF 

in 2013, he was serving as the Air Education and Training Command 

command chief. Consequently, he already had a deep understanding 

of EPME. In fact, Chief Cody had already set into motion the most 

transformational change the PME enterprise had experienced in decades. 

He sought a new model and new supporting policies that would accomplish 

the following objectives: (1) take advantage of recent advances in technology 

and distance learning; (2) deliver relevant education to our Airmen earlier 

in their careers; (3) facilitate broader Total Force participation; (4) focus 

the resident program on more experiential and relevant learning models; 

and (5) design an architecture that can more readily adapt to ever-changing 

fiscal environments. 

Perhaps the most tangible and noteworthy benefit is the 

implementation of the blended learning model. Students in the NCO 

Academy and SNCO Academy now meet their core education requirements 

through a distance learning (DL) course. The DL portion is followed by a 

completely reinvented in-residence course. Now called the Intermediate 

Leadership Experience for NCO Academy, and the Advanced Leadership 

Experience for SNCO Academy, students no longer sit for hours listening to 

podium instructors, having learned the material in the DL portion. Instead, 

they dive headlong into student-led projects and problem-solving activities 

based on real-world issues they bring from their home units. Further, they 

work in multiple team environments; many students come away with the 

most candid and powerful peer feedback they have received in their entire 

careers. The material is challenging and, from an academic perspective, 

taking our senior NCOs to higher levels of learning than ever before. Most 

importantly, students have repeatedly given high praise for the relevance of 

the course content.

What is next? Only time will tell. One vision is to further 

modularize the DL content and spread the material out over an Airman’s 

career, making the courses easier to digest and less a series of “mountaintop experiences.” Ideally, there will be greater flexibility and choice, as 

long as enough EPME credits are achieved by certain milestones, Airmen 

may have a say in which modules they take and when they take them. 

Smaller, more-focused modules are easier to update. Further, delivery 

methodologies can vary; course developers can match their lesson content 

with the delivery option that makes sense for that topic. For example, some 

lessons may lend themselves to a mostly narrative style of delivery for selfstudy, while others may benefit from a more interactive online interface 

where a cohort of students can share experiences and online instructors can 

guide the conversation.

This is just one possible future. Clearly, this is an unfinished journey.

1. Janet R. Bedarnek, ed., The Enlisted 

Experience: A Conversation with the 

Chief Master Sergeants of the Air Force 

(Washington, DC: Air Force History and 

Museums Program, 1995).

2. HQ Technical Training Air Force to HQ 

3700th Air Force Indoctrination Wing, 

official memorandum, subject: NCO 

Leadership Training, 28 May 1952.

3. Frank J. Clifford, “School for Zebras,” 

Air Force Magazine 38, no. 4 (April 1955): 

17–18.

4. Mark R. Grandstaff, Foundation of the 

Force: Air Force Enlisted Personnel Policy 

1907–1956 (Washington, DC: Air Force 

History and Museums Program, 1997), 8.

5. Ibid.

6. I. G. Brown Training and Education Center, 

“Our History,” accessed 31 January 2017, 

http://www.angtec.ang.af.mil/About-Us/

Our-History/.

7. Bedarnek, Enlisted Experience, 31.

8. Ibid., 130.

9. Janet R. Bedarnek, ed., Generations of 

Chevrons: A History of the 

Enlisted Force (Washington, DC: 

Air Force History and Museums Program, 

2004), 77,

 http://media.defense.gov/2010/

May/26/2001330290/-1/-1/0/AFD100526-031.pdf.

10. Ibid.

11. Ibid.

12. CMSAF Donald Harlow, interview with 

Hugh N. Ahmann, 9–10 December 1980.

13. Bedarnek, Generations of Chevrons, 

101–02.

Notes:

14. Ibid., 102.

15. Terence D. Henderson, “USAF Enlisted 

Professional Military Education,” Air & 

Space Power Journal–Spanish 15, no. 3 

(2005), http://www.airpower.au.af.mil/

apjinternational/apj-s/2005/3tri05/

hendersoneng.html.

16. CMSAF Jim Finch, interview with the author, 

28 August 2015.

17. 1980 Biennial NCO PME Conference, 

Executive Summary and Report 

(Washington, DC: Office of the Assistant 

Deputy Chief of Staff for Manpower and 

Personnel, 4 December 1980).

18. Ibid.

19. Finch, interview.

20. 1985 PME Policy Conference, Draft Report 

(Washington, DC: Office of the Chief, 

Assignment Policy Division, 

Directorate of Assignments, 27 June 1985).

21. Bedarnek, Generations of Chevrons, 

136–37.

22. Ibid.

23. Finch, interview.

24. Chief, Professional Education Programs 

Branch to Air Force Director of Personnel 

Program Management, official memorandum, 

subject: PME Update Briefing for AFA 

Enlisted Council, 11 January 1992.

25. Bedarnek, Generations of Chevrons, 90.

26. The Air Force began transitioning to the 

“blended learning” model of EPME in 

2013. The SNCO Academy was the first to 

transition, followed by the NCO Academy. 

All PME, with the exception of the Airman 

Leadership School, is now blended

 learning, with a DL course followed by 

an in-resident experience.

23
24
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

A BRIEF HISTORY 

Written by CMSgt Lee E. Hoover Jr.

Two decades after the US Air Force became a separate military service, 

momentum began to grow for a new type of leader—an enlisted Airman who could 

represent and inspire the enlisted force from the highest levels of the Air Force. During 

the decade that saw promotion stagnation and confusion following the Korean War, 

combined with the ever-increasing reality of a lengthy war in Vietnam, enlisted Airmen 

felt they needed a voice.1

As early as March 1964, the Air Force Association’s Enlisted Council 

recommended the Air Force establish a “Sergeant Major of the Air Force.” The 

individual would advise the Secretary of the Air Force and Chief of Staff of the Air 

Force and be a representative to whom the enlisted Airmen could “freely express their 

opinions and recommendations on matters ranging from mission effectiveness to 

personal problems.”2

The proposal was turned down. Air Force leaders felt the position risked 

undermining the chain of command, but a year later, it became clear that actions from 

other services and elected leaders on Capitol Hill would force their hand. In 1965 the 

Army established the Sergeant Major of the Army (the Marine Corps had established the 

Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps in 1957), and the following year Cong. L. Mendel 

Rivers (D–SC), chairman of the House Armed Services Committee, introduced a bill 

that would mandate each service create a senior enlisted advisor position to “advise the 

leadership on the morale, welfare, and career opportunities of the enlisted men and 

women of their respective service.”3

Although the necessary votes for the Rivers’s bill failed to materialize, 

Air Force leaders recognized the momentum and enthusiastic support for the position 

from the enlisted force. Gen John P. McConnell, Chief of Staff of the Air Force, began 

to solicit advice and consider his options, and in August 1966 adopted the idea by 

announcing the “Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force” (CMSAF). The position “

was to be filled by an individual who will become the highest ranking enlisted member 

of the Air Force.”4 CMSAF Paul Airey 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force

25
The Air Force established selection criteria for the position, which 

whittled potential nominees down to 2,200 chief master sergeants from the more 

than 5,900 chiefs on active duty. Candidates had to have at least 22 years of activeduty service and two years’ time in grade as a chief master sergeant. They also had 

to have a high school diploma and represent the highest standards of integrity 

and performance.

Commanders nominated 21 chiefs, and a selection board narrowed 

them down to three finalists: CMSgt Conrad Stevens of the Military Airlift Command, 

CMSgt Jefferson “Red” Marsh from Pacific Air Forces, and CMSgt Paul Airey of 

the Air Defense Command.5

 In January 1967 Gen. McConnell announced CMSgt 

Paul Airey would be the first Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. Airey assumed 

the role on 3 April 1967 during a ceremony in the Secretary of the Air Force’s 

conference room. 

“We were at the start of a period when the leadership realized suddenly 

that they needed better communications,” Airey said, reflecting on the time years 

later. “Many people say that’s the reason this job was established: to give enlisted 

people a route right to the top without going through the various channels, so that 

they would have somebody up there representing them.”6

Although the position was established and Airey was given an office 

in the Pentagon, the influence and impact of the CMSAF did not arrive overnight. 

Airey had to establish relations and build influence, often needing to press against 

the notion that enlisted Airmen should have no bearing on Air Force decisions. In an 

interview with the Air Force Historical Research Center in 1981, Airey reflected on 

the lessons he learned in the first few months in the position:

“Being Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force is 90 percent common 

sense and 10 percent knowledge. You have to try and get along with the Air Staff. 

That’s whom you are going to be working with. You have to try to get along with 

certain people in order to best represent the force. There are people who will make a 

patsy out of you, both officer and enlisted. There are people who will use you. There 

are people, I am sorry to say, who have axes to grind. Or they will ask you for a favor, 

and you will look into it and find they don’t have a good reason, and because you tell 

them that, they don’t want to hear that, then you are no good.”7

Congressman L. Mendel Rivers 

Chairman of the House Armed Services Committee

“We were at the start of a period when the leadership 

realized suddenly that they needed better communications”

26
CMSAF Donald L. Harlow

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force

27
CMSAF Thomas N. Barnes

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force

28
Airey had the fortitude and patience to calmly build credibility in the 

position. By the time he passed the baton to Donald L. Harlow, the influence had 

begun to grow. In The Enlisted Experience, Harlow recalled that full acceptance and 

influence did not come until years later:

“There was an awful lot of opposition. Even CMSAF Dick Kisling ran 

into it. It wasn’t until later on that the leadership started to realize that it was a good 

position. We had no authority; we couldn’t sign anything. When Paul and I were 

asked to comment on various issues, usually through staff summary sheets, we gave 

our input. As each one of us got into the position, the job increased in importance and 

significance. Those who followed served on more committees and got to go over to 

Congress to testify on various issues. The position became more visible, and I think 

that was great.”8

As the position became more widely accepted and commanders began 

to realize the importance of an enlisted Airman on the staff, commanders began to 

hire their own senior enlisted advisors. It began in major commands, then down to 

the wings and other commands where the position still exists today. The position 

is called the Command Chief Master Sergeant, a title introduced in 1998 during 

CMSAF Eric W. Benken’s tenure.

In the 50 years since Airey first stepped in as the Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force, the Chiefs have heavily influenced the direction of the enlisted 

force. Airey was involved with the first efforts to standardize and centralize enlisted 

promotions and helped develop the Weighted Airman Promotion System. All the 

chiefs have pushed for better professional development through enlisted professional 

military education, establishing the Senior Noncommissioned Officer Academy and 

evolving the delivery of professional military education over the years. The chiefs have 

also addressed social issues, working to build an environment that better supported 

racial and gender equality among the force, and have had a significant impact on 

recruitment and retention, especially following the transition to an all-volunteer 

force. They have advocated for positive changes to quality-of-life initiatives, including 

pay, housing, fitness, wounded warrior care, education, and more. They have also 

been through times of adversity, leading the enlisted force through budget cuts, 

promotion freezes, and force draw downs. Each CMSAF has left his mark and moved 

the enlisted force forward. Today the Secretary of the Air Force and Chief of Staff of 

the Air Force continue to count on the CMSAF to influence policy changes that better 

support the enlisted force. 

CMSAF James A. Roy

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force

“I think we all have the duty to touch those things that 

directly impacted the day-to-day lives of the enlisted force”

29
“I think we all have the duty to touch those things that directly impacted 

the day-to-day lives of the enlisted force,” CMSgt Thomas Barnes said in The Enlisted 

Experience. He summarized that the Chiefs have a say on many things, from uniform 

changes to budgetary decisions:

“There were the opportunities to initiate things. There were review 

activities associated with the budget cycle where the hardware and the people issues 

occurred. The Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force was not excluded. You went in 

and had a chance, if nothing else to say your piece and understand the process.”9

In many ways, the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force has truly 

embodied the communication channel first envisioned when the position was created. 

Although Airey was adamant not to become the Airmen’s inspector general, he did 

understand the value of travel and face-to-face communication with enlisted Airmen 

around the world.10 Chief Master Sergeants of the Air Force have often travelled up to 

300 days a year visiting Airmen to hear concerns firsthand and help shape the culture 

of the enlisted force. They have also taken advantage of communication mediums as 

technology has evolved. The rise of the Internet and e-mail has allowed direct messages 

from the CMSAF in a variety of forms. CMSAF James A. Cody communicated with 

Airmen through social media channels and originated a CHIEFchat web-video series 

to engage with Airmen and address questions on enlisted programs.

Although today’s challenges differ from those present when the position 

first emerged in the 1960s, the top enlisted leader’s primary role—supporting and 

shaping the enlisted force by advising the secretary of the Air Force and chief of staff 

of the Air Force—has not changed. Aviation technology has continued to modernize in 

a digital age. Career specialties have evolved to encompass the newer realms of space 

and cyberspace. Technology and structure have changed, but Airmen, the people who 

voluntarily serve their nation in the US Air Force, continue to be the Air Force’s most 

important asset. The Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force continues to represent 

them all and confidently takes on the challenge to lead them into the future.

CMSAF James C. Binnicker

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force

“Being Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force is 

90 percent common sense and 10 percent knowledge.”

1. Janet R. Bedarnek, ed., The Enlisted Experience: 

A Conversation with the Chief Master Sergeants of the 

Air Force (Washington, DC: Air Force History and 

Museums Program, July 2012), 9.

2. Air Force Association, Air Force Fifty (Nashville, TN: 

Turner Publishing Company, January 1998), 30.

3. Charles Lucas, “Chief Airey,” 

Air Force Magazine 80, no. 9 (September 1997): 62.

4. Ibid.

Notes:

5. Ibid.

6. Bedarnek, Enlisted Experience, 123.

7. H. Amman, “Interview of CMSAF Paul W. Airey,” 

US Air Force Oral History Program, March 1981.

8. Bedarnek, Enlisted Experience, 124.

9. Ibid., 131.

10. Amman, “Interview of CMSAF Paul W. Airey.”

30
CMSAF James A. Cody

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force

31
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Paul W. Airey

April 3, 1967 - July 31, 1969

Paul Wesley Airey was born on 

13 December 1923 and was raised in 

Quincy, Massachusetts, a predominately 

Navy town just across the Neponset 

River from Boston. As a boy, Airey 

always planned to enlist in the US Navy. 

Following the attacks on Pearl Harbor 

on 7 December 1941, he dropped 

out of high school to pursue that goal. 

However, after a bad experience with 

a Navy recruiter, he changed course, 

deciding instead to enlist in the US Army 

Air Corps on 16 November 1942.

Airey served for more than 27 

years in various roles, including aerial 

gunner, radio operator, first sergeant, 

and personnel sergeant major. During 

World War II, his B-24 bomber was hit 

by flak shortly after bombs away in July 

1944. Airey and his crew bailed out 

over Vienna, Austria, and immediately 

became prisoners of war (POW). It was 

Airey’s 28th combat mission.

On 3 April 1967, Gen. John P. 

McConnell, the chief of staff of the Air 

Force, selected Airey to be the first Air 

Force senior enlisted leader—the Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force. He 

immediately tackled tough issues such 

as assignments and promotion, firmly 

establishing the value and importance of 

the new position. Following his tenure, 

Airey returned to Tyndall AFB, Florida, 

as the first sergeant of a combat crew 

training squadron before retiring on 1 

August 1970. He passed away on 11 

March 2009.

The Air Force Historical Research 

Center interviewed Airey on 23–24 

March 1981 in Panama City, Florida. 

During the interview, Airey discussed his 

childhood and military career, including 

details on his experience as a POW 

and his tenure as the first Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force. The complete 

interview can be accessed on the Air 

University Library’s online research 

center.

1

 Portions of the interview are 

printed below. The order of some of the 

questions and answers has been adjusted 

to depict a chronological reflection on 

the life of Paul Wesley Airey.

32
did you have a pretty normal childhood?

Yes. I believe I had a pretty normal childhood. Some of my earliest 

recollections were of New Bedford.2

 As you know, in its heyday, New 

Bedford was the whaling capital of the world and was still a busy seaport 

when I was a child. I can remember going to the whaling museum, in which 

I took great interest as one of my grandfathers was a whaler. We moved to 

Quincy, Massachusetts, while I was still very young, and I grew up there 

until enlisting in the Army Air Forces.

What company did your father work for, or did he 

work for different people along the way? 

He worked for many companies. He had a bad time during the 

Depression—like so many thousands and thousands of people. He worked 

for hotel chains. In his latter years, he wasn’t in the auditing business. I 

think he just did things like working around a supermarket just to keep 

busy after he retired. 

How did the Depression affect your family?

We about lost everything, as my dad lost his job and our home. 

Those were pretty rough days. We really didn’t start seeing things looking 

better until World War II came on the horizon.

Did you like school as you were growing up?

I am afraid in my first several years, I was no scholar and did not 

apply myself. I played all the sports—baseball, basketball, and football—and 

of course, we played sports that nowadays are just becoming popular, like 

hockey and soccer. I played soccer, which at that time was only played in 

that part of the country. I did not finish high school until well after I came 

in the service. But I had a normal upbringing in Quincy, Massachusetts. 

Did you drop out of high school before you enlisted?

Yes, shortly before.

Was this to enlist?

That was the main reason. After Pearl Harbor, I wanted to come 

in, and I enlisted 16 November 1942.

Where were you on Pearl Harbor day?

This was Sunday, 7 December, and I had been to a local semipro 

football game. Sometime just near the end of the game we received some 

type of word, but I still didn’t realize it until I got home, and of course, by 

then the radio was filled with the news that the Japanese had struck Pearl 

Harbor. Most people were saying, “Where is Pearl Harbor?”

Did you know where Pearl Harbor was?

No, not really, if I recall right. The point I am trying to make is, 

there was a definite sense of purpose. The country was—at least we thought 

the country was in danger and Hitler had to be stopped. And of course, the 

Japanese had angered all of us.

Did you have any feeling in that sense, 

that the Germans were worse or bad, or 

that the Japanese were worse?

I thought the Japanese were the ones that really set us off. They were 

the ones, “the day of infamy” so to speak. We overreacted to some degree, 

but there is no doubt, as military historians have said, if the Japanese had 

followed up on Pearl Harbor, they could very easily have taken Hawaii, and 

God knows what next. What I am trying to describe or say is that the country 

was not only alarmed, but it caused us to accelerate even more the buildup 

of our armed forces. We needed all the people we could get, and personnel 

from all walks of life were coming in with the draft or from enlistments.

As you were growing up, was there any one thing 

that you had planned to do as an adult?

Strange as it might seem, even then I had an inclination toward a 

military career. In those days the area that I grew up in was predominantly 

Navy. In Quincy, we had the huge Fore River Shipyard, which produced 

many capital ships for the Navy, such as the famous carrier Wasp, and even 

the cruiser the Quincy was built there. Both ships went down fighting the 

Japanese later in the war. In addition, Boston was a great Navy town. My 

plans as a young boy were to eventually go into the United States Navy.

What happened?

I haven’t told this story very often, but I went into a Navy recruiting 

office, and there was an old chief petty officer sitting there. He gave me a bad 

time about he couldn’t fool with me that day and made some remarks about, 

“We only want men, and we don’t want to screw around with you today, and 

come back later”—just one of these belligerent types that really turn you off, 

the type that we try to keep away from recruiting offices. So I went down the 

street and joined the Army Air Forces. I owe that petty officer much for what 

he did for me by making me change my mind.

33
Was there any one thing that you wanted to do 

when you joined the Air Force?

I wanted to be an aerial gunner. I didn’t ask for radio. I had no 

intention of wanting to be a radio operator, but upon enlistment, I went 

through basic training in Atlantic City, New Jersey, which was one of 

coldest winters I ever spent in my life. The entire town of Atlantic City was 

taken over by the Army Air Forces for basic training. All of the hotels were 

used by various squadrons. We used to drill at Brigantine Field, which 

was on the outskirts of town. I don’t know whether that particular plot of 

ground is still there. From there, upon completion of basic training, I was 

sent out to Scott AFB [Illinois].

What kind of basic was this? 

Did you learn to handle weapons or anything?

Yes. It was a speeded-up course, as the Army had a lot of catching 

up to do. We had the regular close order drill, the customs and courtesies, 

and all of the various subjects that go into the making of a soldier. As 

you know Atlantic City is right on the Atlantic Ocean, and at that time 

we were losing many ships at sea to German submarines. And we had 

complete blackouts on the coast to prevent our ships from showing up as 

silhouettes out on the water. Due to this action and also due to the fact that 

the Germans had landed some spies on the East Coast, we also trained to 

patrol the famous Atlantic City Boardwalk from a German landing. What 

bothered me is that they did not give me any ammo for the rifle.

You went out to Scott. While you were there, 

they decided you were going to be an airborne 

radio operator?

Yes.

How did you accept that?

I wasn’t that keen about becoming a radio operator. I wanted to 

be an aerial gunner. In those days, on both your B-17s and B-24s, which 

were heavy bombers, you had a crew of 10—four officers and six enlisted. 

You had the engineers or the aviation mechanics and the armament types 

and one radio operator. I really had more preference toward being an 

armorer, but they sent me to radio operators’ school.

Did you have any trouble learning 

Morse code or anything?

No, the code wasn’t that difficult, just repetitious.

How fast did you have to copy? 

Airborne operators in those days could never do more than 10 or 

12 words per minute in the air. I think we had to graduate with 18 words a 

minute. That’s sitting on the ground with ideal conditions, but up in a plane, 

we never did more than 10 or 12 words a minute. Blinkers gave me trouble. 

We used an Aldis lamp.3 I forget how many words a minute it was that we 

had to pass. I think it was four words with the Aldis lamp. That gave me a lot 

of trouble until I learned the proper eye coordination.

You came down here to Tyndall AFB, Florida 

then from Scott?

Yes.

Had there been a base for any length of time 

when you got here?

Tyndall was started in 1941. Ground was broken on Pearl Harbor 

day. I came here, and the gunnery schools were in full swing.

You arrived here in June 1943.

Yes.

They trained you in gunnery. Was this going to be 

the .50 caliber, located at like the dorsal fin of 

the B-17 or B-14?

They trained you in the various positions. You had turrets that 

were mounted on the backs of trucks. You started off training just like at 

a carnival with a .22, rifle shooting ducks that came by. That taught you to 

lead, and then you went into shotguns and skeet. From skeet you went into 

your machine guns on the backs of trucks and in turrets. Then they also had 

turrets where you shot skeet. Your shotguns were mounted in a turret, and 

you tracked the skeet with a turret and shot it. Then you stood in a harness 

in the back of a truck and went down these dirt roads, and skeet would be 

coming at you from various positions. It was an excellent school.

Had you ever done any shooting before?

Just rifles and shotguns. I really liked the aerial gunnery school.

Was there quite a dropout rate at this point?

They had a certain elimination rate, yes. This could have been for 

many reasons. They started weeding people out early. There was a certain 

amount of fear of flying, which we still have today in some people. The 

pressure chamber eliminated a certain number—altitude chamber. Poor 

gunnery eliminated others.

34
What was the relationship between the troops 

themselves? Did people get along in those days, or 

did you pair up with people of common interests and 

common hometowns and that type of thing?

I think everyone found someone, pairs or groups, somewhat to 

the degree like we have today. Of course, there was a war going on, and I 

find it very difficult to put in words or describe the atmosphere. We were 

going at total war for the defense of this nation, and we were taking a hell 

of a licking at the time I came in in 1942. The Japanese had swept all over 

the Pacific. Hitler had conquered most of Europe and had invaded Russia 

and had made sweeping victories. The Japanese had shelled a place out on 

the West Coast.

Judging from today’s standards [in 1981], 

it is hard to understand why there wouldn’t be

 one conflict after another, but you say there 

was this common purpose.

Common purpose, plus the fact there were a lot more mature 

people around, grown mature, family men who were drafted or enlisted. 

We were drafting up to 35. In fact, I think they drafted above 35 if you 

didn’t have any dependents—and they later reduced it to 35. Of course, 

discipline was harsh. That was what they call the “old brown shoe days.”

Would the NCOs [noncommissioned officers] 

take a guy out and illustrate?

Yes, that was certainly done. I believe, also, we had much more 

respect or fear of authority. In addition, the thought of being placed in 

Spartan barracks kept many of us straight. Spartan barracks was a form of 

punishment that was passed out for many different reasons—failure to obey, 

late for duty, missing a formation, etc. You were put in a special barracks, 

and you double-timed to chow. You doubled-timed everyplace. You were 

restricted to that particular barrack, and your day was monitored. In other 

words, you did your duties and the rest of the time you spent listening to 

lectures and double-timing and exercising. It was pretty damn rough.

Did you ever end up in one?

No, I never ended up in one.

Did you get any leave during this period 

back to Massachusetts?

After graduating from aerial gunnery school, my class was sent 

by troop train to Salt Lake Army Air Base, Salt Lake City, Utah, for crew 

assignment and refresher training in radio operating. When this training 

was completed, we received a l0-day leave. When I returned, the crew that 

I was assigned to went to Gowen Field, Boise, Idaho, for B-24 transition 

training. Evidently that’s where Jimmy Stewart, the movie actor, had trained 

some months ahead of us. Stewart, they say, was the only famous movie 

actor that actually rose to a command position of leadership in the war. He 

later on led the entire Eighth Air Force on missions into Germany. After 

Boise we reported to Fairmont Army Air Base, Nebraska, and helped form 

and activate the 485th Bomb Group, which after completion of training we 

were assigned to the Fifteenth Air Force.

What gun position did you cover in the B-24?

The radio operator normally had the left waist. The first engineer had 

the right waist, the waist guns not being as important as the turret gunners 

because they were hand-held .50 caliber. The idea was, if it was necessary 

for the radio operator to be at the radio or the engineer to be someplace, 

those two positions had less priority, and they were more maneuverable. 

Getting in and out of a turret, particularly the ball turret, took time.

Did you have a pretty good crew?

Yes, outstanding. The pilot stayed in. His name was [Lt Col] James 

Francis Hogan. He was a captain when I joined the crew, which is a little 

bit unusual because most of them were lieutenants. He had been around 

a while and was a pretty experienced pilot. He became Regular Air Force 

after the war and was killed in a chopper accident years later. I was the 

only enlisted man to stay in. The bombardier stayed and became a master 

sergeant and then retired as a major. He was recalled during the Korean 

War. The tail gunner was a fellow by the name of SSgt Jack Lindsey from 

Shreveport, Louisiana. The tail gunner on another crew was wounded, and 

he was assigned to fill in one morning that we weren’t flying, and he was 

killed on that mission. So we ended up with a replacement for him. They are 

pretty well scattered now. I haven’t heard from them in years.

What did you actually do as the aircraft radio 

operator? Were there not voice communications that 

the pilot had access to between aircraft and the 

ground, or did you handle all the communications? 

How did that work?

The pilot really only had voice conversations between him and 

control towers or between him and other aircraft. This was only for a 

relatively short radius. Any kind of distant voice the radio operator had to 

do, and he couldn’t do too well. I remember we had the old trailing wire 

antenna, had a S-pound lead weight we called the fish.

You reeled that out?

You just let it go out. 

35
How much radio operating would you do on a flight? 

Actually, on going overseas, I worked continually trying to keep 

in contact with stations, getting weather reports, and letting people know 

where we were at checkpoints. Actually, in combat very little. There were 

times when my plane was the element leader, and I would have to get a 

bombs-away report or get landing instructions, but actually, very little.

According to your biography, you were shot down on 

your 28th mission, is that right?

That’s right.

Did you ever take hits on your aircraft prior to 

getting shot down?

Oh, yes, on several occasions, we had been hit.

What was the thing that you feared the most, the 

fighter in the sky or the AAA [antiaircraft artillery] 

on the ground?

Flak was the most frightening or the most frustrating because 

you could do nothing about it except watch it come at you. Many tales 

and jokes have been told about flak being so thick you could walk on it; 

however, I have seen it so thick that it darkened the sky, almost blotted out 

the sun. You take a heavily defended target, such as Wiener Neustadt—

New Vienna—which was an industrial area with oil refineries and aircraft 

plants, could really put out a massive amount of flak. The Germans knew 

your altitude and shot off what was called box flak. In other words, they shot 

a large amount of flak into an area and let you fly into it. Once a formation 

hit the initial point, there was no evasive action. You just held formation 

and flew to the target. Flak took a terrible toll, and many thousands of 

casualties could be attributed to flak. Thousands of POWs could testify 

that flak was what got them.

What happened on this mission? 

The target was the Floridsdorf oil refineries, which were on the 

outskirts of Vienna also. The aircraft was hit by flak shortly after bombs 

away. I can recall the pilot’s feathering one of the engines and then the 

other. By this time, we were well across the Danube over Hungary. Of 

course, Hungary was an ally of the Germans. I can remember when the 

oil pressure in the third one started going down, he said, “Get out. If that 

third engine goes, this thing is going to go down like a lead sled.” We all 

bailed out. I can remember making this statement—I have seen planes go 

down over a target. I have seen B-24s go into a spin. I have stood there at 

that window praying for chutes to come out, and no chutes would come. 

Centrifugal force prevented them from bailing out. I told this story, and I 

don’t think some people believed it. I saw a B-24, not a spin, it was doing 

a complete flip-flop, flip-flop, just like you take a toy. It was going over and 

over. You figure the Fifteenth Air Force put up 500 to 800 planes on a 

maximum effort raid. They would lose 25 or 30 or 40. You say to yourself, 

“The odds are pretty good.” But you multiply that by the number of missions 

you have to fly, and the odds start going down.

You didn’t see every day as a new day then? 

You didn’t believe that statistic then?

No, I didn’t believe that. What I had said to myself was, “This 

could very well happen to me. I just hope and pray that if we do get hit, we 

will have the opportunity to get out.” That’s what bothered me more than 

anything. I have seen them go down and just stood there looking at them. 

You know, “Get out! Get out!” And no one did. That’s a sickening and 

demoralizing sight to see them go down, down, down. I have seen airplanes 

just completely explode. I have seen guys bailout and come barreling right 

through a whole formation of airplanes. So when that pilot said, “Go,” there 

was no hesitation on my part. Right out the camera hatch I went.

Did all of your crew get out?

Yes, all got out. One broken leg, the copilot’s, on landing. No direct 

wounds from flak or fighters. We all bailed out at a fairly high altitude. One 

of the reasons we went down is because we went over the target at only 

18,000 feet, as that’s all the altitude the lead ship could get, and we all 

went over at this height. The pilot was the last to leave the ship, and we were 

scattered over a few mile radius. I remember getting the psycho card from 

my flight suit leg pocket and tearing it up in small pieces and scattering it to 

the wind. This card, of course, was the code the operator uses to encode and 

decode messages. I had no sensation of falling as we had bailed out so high. 

I also remember reaching in my pocket and finding my smokes and then 

lit a cigarette.

As you were coming down?

Yes. When that ground starts coming up, it starts coming up fast. I 

could see these woods off in the distance, and that’s where I planned to go. 

As I got down closer, I could see them coming from all over. I never got out 

of the chute. I never got out of my harness. I landed, and they were waiting, 

all the farmers, and I got the hell beat out of me. They were irate, angry. We 

were rounded up and taken to a local town jail for the night.

Had you been told what to expect if you were shot down?

Yes. Of course, we had escape kits with currency in it and a little 

compass and maps, etc. They didn’t pull any punches. They told us in 

certain areas you could expect pretty rough treatment if picked up by 

certain people. 

36
Did this kind of leave you in shock, all of a sudden 

here you were in the hands of the enemy?

Yes. The Germans had a favorite expression, “For you the war is 

over.” I heard that several times from them. I think the biggest thing, it 

suddenly dawned on me—here you are in the airplane with all that noise 

and excitement going on, the adrenaline flowing, the pilot finally gives 

the word to bail out, and you bail out and that rush of air. Then that chute 

opens, and all of a sudden the plane you bailed out of is gone, and what 

other planes were in the air are gone, and there is that complete utter 

silence. It’s an eerie feeling. There you are alone.

When you got to the POW camp, what happened then?

The first thing that struck home was the fact that I knew so many 

people who were already POWs. I ran into men whom I had gone through 

training with and several from my own outfit. We were at that stage in the 

war suffering some very high losses. To a degree it was comforting to be 

around old friends even if we had to meet under those circumstances.

How big of a camp were you in?

Stalag Luft IV, which was up at Gross Tychow [Poland] near the 

Baltic, must have had 10,000 Allies—maybe 8,000—or somewhere in 

there. They had four lagers, which must have had 2,000 or 3,000 a piece 

or in that vicinity.

Did the Germans give you much of a briefing on what 

you would do? 

Yes. When you say a briefing, they gave you a long list of dos 

and don’ts, such as, “Escape is impossible and foolish and could result in 

death. Intercourse with a German girl could result in being shot.” They 

also went into a long talk on such subjects as sabotage, for which the 

penalty could also be death. Sabotage could be interpreted as breaking a 

windowpane, cutting a tent rope, etc. They also said how well we would be 

treated and some additional propaganda. 

Was there a strong attempt to keep military 

discipline in the camp?

Yes. We had some pretty tight rules. Our orders were to have a 

total, complete hands-off policy. The decision was made, “You do not 

fraternize with them. If they ask you questions, you give them a military 

answer. When they try to get close to you—and they had guards that were 

specifically designed for that purpose, ‘ferrets’—don’t barter with them, 

don’t offer them a cigarette from your Red Cross, don’t give them any, and 

keep away from them.” This was the policy we had. I later got to a camp 

that was mostly British. They had the Germans completely under their 

thumb, totally corrupted them. They were afraid if they said anything, they 

would get shot.

What was your average day like? Did it change as the 

war got worse for the Germans?

The average day was up early in the morning and do the daily chores, 

such as cleanup details. Many spent much of their time reading and walking 

around the camp. Much time was spent in the discussion of food, as for the 

most part you were hungry. The twice-a-day roll call by the Germans could 

take a considerable amount of time until they could account for everybody. 

All in all it was not too bad; it was just trying to stay in shape. The day we 

received Red Cross parcels was a big event for us. We were supposed to 

get one parcel per man each week. However, it often had to be split four 

or more ways. If it had not been for these parcels, we would have lost many 

from starvation. As the war progressed, things got worse. Keeping in mind 

and trying to be fair about it, the Germans were in pretty bad shape at the 

latter stages of the war as far as food and supplies. If the German soldier 

wasn’t doing that well, the POW was going to do a little worse, that’s all 

there was to it. You asked about morale. I don’t think there was a doubt in 

anyone’s mind that we were going to win the war, and it was a matter of just 

surviving until that time. Unlike other wars, unlike the Korean War, unlike 

the Vietnam War where people were prisoners six, seven years and didn’t 

have any idea what was happening. The big thing was, there was no doubt 

in my mind, there was no doubt in anyone else’s or any POW that I knew 

of, that we weren’t going to win in a matter of months or a year. That was all 

there was to it. I think that is the big difference.

How long was it before your folks found out that 

you were still alive?

The first time they officially knew—actually the first time the 

Americans knew what camp I was at—is when my folks received a letter from 

me. They asked my folks to send it to them, and they determined somehow 

that it was Stalag Luft IV.

Did the Germans try to harass you or anything when 

you were settled originally in the POW barracks?

No, not really. There were a few incidents. For the most part guards 

were older people. Some of them were unfit for active service. A few of them 

had been badly wounded and were not fit to go back to the front lines. The 

bad times came when we marched out of the camp on 6 February, as the 

Germans did not want us to fall into Russian hands. Ninety days later we were 

still marching, with a short layover at Stalag 357. It was cold, miserable, no 

food or medicine. The Germans herded us around. People got sick; some 

died. We, of course, were being constantly harassed by the Germans. Much 

has been written about this march. All in all, it was not very pleasant.

37
38
39
How was your health while you were a POW, 

including “the march?”

In the march I got dysentery, and I lost a tremendous amount of 

weight. In fact, I was probably below 100 pounds when I was liberated. 

I was real sick.

Did a lot of people die on that march? 

Yes. Several died from disease, the cold, and from exhaustion. 

However, there were other deaths due to error and mistakes. For instance, 

POWs were marched in columns of threes. This was to let all the forces, 

both enemy and friendly, know what their status was. It was at the tail end 

of the war, and we were marching when two RAF Typhoons came out of 

the sky, made a sweep over a column, and let loose with some gunfire, 

killing five or six British troops. The bitter irony of it was that these men 

had been POWs for several years and had come so far and been through so 

much to come to this end. By the time we marched past, they were getting 

volunteers for the burial detail. 

How many guards did they have; did they have a lot 

of guards on you?

Yes, a hell of a lot of guards and dogs. 

They were just literally kind of marching you around 

for want of something better to do?

Let’s see, we marched west and across the Elbe River once. We 

came back across the Elbe again. Let’s see, from 6 February—and they 

liberated us 2 May. That report says 80-some days. I think the interim 

period we were at Stalag 357. 

Near Berlin.

Yes, and then we marched again until we were liberated by the 

British Second Army on 2 May 1945. 

Then it says you took a 3-month recuperation leave?

Yes...I was back in the states in June. We spent several days in 

France prior to embarking.

Had you intended to stay in the military at this point?

Yes. Even as a prisoner of war, I was giving it much consideration 

about staying. I liked it. There was something about it I wanted. I came 

back from that recuperation leave and reenlisted.

Did you want to stay in the radio operator business?

Yes. I liked flying, but the day of the flying operator was rapidly 

becoming a thing of the past. Right after World War II, they started coming 

out with equipment where the pilot could do more just by pushing a button. 

They sent me back to school through courses, and I became at that time a 

30170, which was a radio/navigational equipment, nonflying. Of course, 

by this time I had made master sergeant. That’s a story, too, I guess, that’s of 

historical significance.

In 1946 they came out with a policy that former prisoners of war who 

met certain criteria could be promoted one stripe. I fell under that criteria, 

and lo and behold, orders came out to promote me to master sergeant. 

Fifteen months later, it was determined that the promoting authority was 

erroneous. In other words, the authority to promote was not at that level. 

It should have been at Air Force level. The end result is we were reduced 

without prejudice, and I owed 15 months’ difference in pay. Things are 

different nowadays. You can go have it taken out of your pay in installments, 

but in those days they took it out in large chunks, everything you had coming 

except your wife’s allotment. I was reduced without prejudice but was 

promoted on the first cycle of master sergeants that came out. I still owed the 

difference in pay.

You got married 2 February 1946. Had you known 

your wife for some time then?

Yes. We had gone to school together. After the recuperation leave, 

I went back and we married in February.4 I was in the training system for five 

years, and then the Korean War broke out, and I was sent to Okinawa.

According to your biography here, you were in radio 

repair at that point.

Yes.

And you developed this corrosion control 

assembly line. What was that all about?

I arrived at Okinawa, and I noticed a tremendous, terrible 

deterioration due to moisture, fungi on electronic equipment, equipment 

that was not prepared at the factory for tropical use. You have a salt problem 

in Okinawa. It’s nothing I invented; the process was there. It tells you how to 

do it, and I just ordered the equipment and set up a program and got the job 

done. I am not going to take any credit for that. But the end result, someone 

thought it was great. I didn’t invent a damn thing. The process was there. All 

you had to do was read it. I dug it out and set it up. They claimed millions of 

dollars of electronic equipment was prevented from deteriorating due to salt 

and corrosion.

40
Were you able to bring your wife along in those days?

I was there a year, and then Shirley and the two kids got there for 

a year. Then they sent me back to Scott again in the training system.

Were you an instructor now?

Yes, for a short time—I started to be an instructor, and I was pulled 

up to the training headquarters. By this time, I was asked how I would like 

to be a first sergeant, would I volunteer for a while anyway? I did, and 12 

years later, I was still a first sergeant.

These were all electronic outfits. You ended up in 

the civil engineering squadron down here but—

At Scott when I was a first sergeant, it was student squadrons, 

large student squadrons. At Keesler it was student squadrons. I then went 

to Japan as the first sergeant of a radar site up in the mountains. Then I 

came back, and I was first sergeant of a CAMRON [Consolidated Aircraft 

Maintenance Squadron] squadron at Grand Forks, North Dakota, and 

then the 18th Fighter Interceptor Squadron at Grand Forks, then a civil 

engineering squadron. Then I was selected as the Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force.

Did you like this type of work better?

Yes. Of all the jobs I have had in my career, I think first sergeant 

was probably the best. I liked it. I liked the discipline part of it. I liked 

being able to counsel and lead. I liked the first sergeant duty.

In those days did the Air Force send you through 

a lot of PME [professional military education] on 

how to be a first sergeant?

We had no PME in those days. You became a first sergeant after 

years of experience in other career fields. You picked up the ball from 

there. We didn’t have professional military education as we know it today or 

first sergeant academies. However, we did have MAJCOM [major 

command] academies.

In the time period of the early 1950s, middle 1950s, 

were there ever any thoughts of getting out at 

this point?

No. I never had any idea of getting out. I was happy. I enjoyed it. I 

think particularly as a first sergeant, unlike—electronics or working on the 

flight line can get kind of repetitious. As the first sergeant you never knew 

what was going to happen day or night. 

Obviously, you were in the military when the E-8 and E-9 

positions were created.

In 1958.

Did you see that as a positive thing inasmuch as there 

was a need for this?

Oh, yes.

Of course, then you hear the old argument that, rather 

than create more enlisted grades, we should have 

more warrant officers. How do you feel about that?

I think one of the wisest and best things the Air Force did was to 

do away with the warrant officer program. Our senior NCOs have taken the 

place of the warrants. To me the warrant officer was an extra rank in the chain 

that was not needed. In other words, you can be a chief master sergeant with 

many years’ service and be in charge of a section or shop or whatever, and 

the moment a warrant officer appears on the scene, you no longer are in 

charge of that section. In other words, the warrant officer dilutes from the 

prestige and authority of our senior NCOs.

The other argument would be, rather than 

commissioning them, give your E-8s and E-9s a more 

authoritative position in the rank structure.

Of all the armed forces today, I think the chief master sergeants in the 

United States Air Force have broken into more positions of authority than 

any other of the armed forces. We have chief master sergeants who are doing 

all types of commissioned officer work, or what was once commissioned 

officer work, far more so than the other services. A chief master sergeant 

in the United States Air Force has a lot of authority, and what they don’t 

realize, more so than any of the other armed forces. I am talking about being 

able to sign for money, thousands and thousands of dollars, or being able to 

operate a shop, being able to close a contract that deals with maybe millions 

of dollars, being a finance officer, being a motor pool officer, being all types 

of officers that require a commissioned officer in the other armed forces.

41
We will jump up to 1966, the Air Force started talking 

about this position of Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force. Did you ever get involved in pushing for 

such a concept or anything along those lines?

In 1966 the Air Force Times was giving a little coverage 

to the position.

There was a senator pushing legislation forcing the 

Air Force and the DOD [Department of Defense] to 

create this position.

L. Mendel Rivers [D-SC] was the congressman who worked with it.

If the Air Force didn’t create the position, he was going 

to force it by legislation. I have a note here, 

“A bill sponsored by Mendel Rivers would create Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force. It would be 4-year 

terms, appointed by the President and confirmed by 

the Senate. Enlisted advisor on EM [enlisted men] 

morale, training, promotion, and related matters.” 

Now that bill was not passed, but it would appear that 

he simply presented this legislation in the Senate to 

force the Air Force to do it.

The position did become a statutory position after I was appointed 

due to Rivers. As soon as I heard about it, I thought, “What a great honor 

that would be.” I don’t want to sound like I am being falsely modest or 

anything, but I never figured that I had the slightest chance. “Whoever 

gets that job,” I thought, “is really going to have to go through a lot. 

What a great honor it would be.” But I didn’t think I had any chance of 

being selected.

Who urged you to apply for the job, or why did you 

apply? How did this come about, Chief?

Nobody urged me. As soon as I heard about it I thought, “What 

a tremendous honor it would be for anyone to get that position or be 

appointed to it.” This was back in 1966, and of course there wasn’t much 

said about it. The Air Force Times came out with something every so 

often. A blurb, “Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force position is being 

considered and so forth.”

Oh, this wasn’t coming down through—

There was very little coming down through military channels on it, 

and finally they came out with the criteria, and the criteria was, basically, any 

chief master sergeant who had a minimum of 22 years of service, two years’ 

time-in-grade, never been court-martialed could become the Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force. The job description, basically, hasn’t changed one 

iota—“Would aid and advise the Secretary of the Air Force and the Chief of 

Staff of the Air Force on all matters pertaining to enlisted personnel.” Then 

the process—there were 2,200 chief master sergeants eligible for the job at 

the first selection.

There were four nominated for the top Airman job, and 

then by February, it was down—Dwight Harrington, 

William Lawson, Lee Rodgers, and Paul Airey—to 

Conrad Stevens, Paul Airey, and Jefferson Marsh. Had 

you ever gotten into the—with your contemporaries 

even before you became Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force—was there any kind of—

Speculation about the job? 

Speculation for need for such a position? 

Yes. I ran into a lot of people who said it was going to be a phony 

position. There were people who thought that. There were people who said 

it was something to placate the enlisted force. There were people who said 

they wouldn’t have it because it wasn’t going to do what they advertised it as. 

I couldn’t believe this. I had enough faith in the system that I liked to think—

and did think—it was going to be set up in all good faith to do something for 

the enlisted force, to make it an avenue of communication, to try and make 

it a better Air Force, which I, to this day, believe the job has accomplished.

You went up there, and General John P. McConnell 

interviewed you for the job?

Yes, and the vice chief was General [Bruce K.] Holloway.

What were they interested in?

That’s getting to be a long time ago. It seemed to be in the general 

line of subjects. What would be expected of you, and do you think you could 

handle it, etc.? There was talk going around that General McConnell did not 

favor the position. I don’t know really how strong he was for or against it. I 

do know this, after a few months in office, I could not have asked for a better 

supporter. He was great to me and was always easy to talk to and always put 

me in a position whereas I felt comfortable in his presence.

42
What were your feelings when you were selected at 

the first Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force?

I am not trying to sound humble, but when I look back at the time, 

there were 2,200 eligible to be Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, 

and I can honestly say of the 2,200 I never will be convinced that I was the 

most qualified or the best. I ended up with the job so you go out and do the 

best you can. 

What was the first thing now that you had to do? 

Physically, there was no such office even existing 

before. Did they have to set up an office for you 

someplace and give you help? Who did all that kind 

of mechanical work for you?

When I got there, I was in a temporary office while mine was 

being finished. I reported to the chief of staff at my installation ceremony, 

and it was General McConnell of course. He said, “Okay, you have got 

the job. You have got the ball, run with it. I caution you to be careful of”—

you know, being Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force is 90 percent 

commonsense and 10 percent knowledge. You have to try and get along 

with the Air Staff. That’s whom you are going to be working with. You 

have to try to get along with certain people in order to best represent the 

force. There are people who will make a patsy out of you, both officer and 

enlisted. There are people who will use you. There are people, I am sorry 

to say, who have axes to grind. Or they will ask you for a favor, and you will 

look into it and find they don’t have a good reason, and because you tell 

them that, they don’t want to hear that, then you are no good.

When you first took over the job there, you say you 

set up the office. We have talked to Secretaries of 

the Air Force, and there is no statutory regulation 

or Air Force regulation or anything that sets up the 

relationship between the Chief of Staff of the Air 

Force and the Secretary of the Air Force. It has to 

be personal rapport that they build. You either get 

along, or you are going to find yourself odd man out. 

Were you able to build a rapport with McConnell?

The Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force can only be as effective 

as the Chief of Staff wants him to be. That’s 100 percent right. If he ever 

loses his support, then he is losing ground for the enlisted force. For the 

first several weeks, I don’t know if General McConnell was just observing, 

waiting to hear reports from the field, but after 90 days or so, we had a 

much closer rapport. I got the distinct feeling it was a sweating-out period 

or an observation period, trial period.

The Vietnam War started heating up in 1966 before 

you became Chief Master Sergeant. How did you feel 

about people running off to Canada and getting in 

the Air Force and then deserting? What were your 

personal feelings?

I have extremely strong feelings on it. We were in Vietnam; we were 

invited; we had a right to be there. We weren’t invaders. These people who 

fled certainly have my complete contempt. I know the war was unpopular. I 

hope we never get into one like it again or like the Korean War. If we ever 

go to war without the intentions of going to win it, then I think we have made 

a serious, serious mistake. Who was it that said, “Those who fail to learn by 

history are doomed to repeat its mistakes?” However, we were in it, and our 

country was in it. All we could do was back it.

Was there anything you saw happening in the Air Force 

to the enlisted structure—now this is before you 

went up to Washington—was anything at your level 

indicating a new type of enlisted man, a malcontented 

enlisted man, or anything like that coming along?

No, absolutely not. I did not notice anything in that way at all. In 

fact, the four times I got to Vietnam or Southeast Asia, twice with the Chief 

of Staff and twice on my own, I found the morale topnotch. This was the 

1967/68/69 period. They would work hard and go all out. I found morale 

was just fabulous in all ranks.

One reason I ask about morale and everything, in 

January 1966, there was a note that first-term 

reenlistment rate was the lowest in 12 years. I 

was wondering at your level whether you saw any 

reason for this at all, or if this was skewed based on 

one particular command that might have had a low 

reenlistment rate?

No, I don’t think the Vietnam War had too much to do with that. We 

were trying to get 25 percent of the enlisted force to reenlist. In order to do 

that, we allowed some to reenlist that weren’t too good. A few years prior to 

Vietnam, retention was a big subject. I don’t really think the Vietnam War 

at that time had anything to do with it. I think the economy was good. The 

pay was only mediocre. You have to remember . . . the Air Force has some 

far-flung areas that weren’t popular. We had remote radar sites all over the 

world. Certainly, our northern tier bases weren’t the most popular.

Promotions are something I want to talk about.

43
Promotions are based against skills. The skill 

levels were frozen, then correct?

Various career skills were frozen. When I went on the job as 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, the two biggest problems I had—

number one was promotions, and the second was assignments. Let’s 

talk about promotions. We had frozen career fields. We had embittered 

people. This is one of the reasons Rivers got involved. We had enlisted 

personnel who were so embittered, and Rivers was the chairman of the 

House Armed Forces Committee. He was receiving 15,000 to 20,000 

letters a year from embittered enlisted personnel on promotions. The 

result is he formed a subcommittee to investigate the enlisted promotions 

in the armed forces.

The end result is the Air Force was severely criticized on their 

promotion system. At this time, they brought some pretty smart people 

together, some full colonels, some chief master sergeants. I had a certain 

basic input. I don’t want to put my input out of proportion to what it 

was worth. But the end result was they came out with a weighted Airman 

promotion system [WAPS], which today is still in effect and is by far the 

fairest, best, most equitable promotion system of any of the armed forces 

for the enlisted men. It was a year or two ago, and I was over in the House, 

and there is a man by the name of John Ford. He is a counselor to the 

House Armed Forces Committee. I said, “Mr. Ford, you remember how 

L. Mendel Rivers was getting 15,000 to 20,000 letters a year on enlisted 

promotions?” He said, “I sure do, Paul.” I said, “How many are you 

getting now from Air Force enlisted people?” He said, “We don’t get half 

dozen or so a year.” Now this is success that the Airman can see. In other 

words, the biggest problem I faced was the promotion problem. The Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force job remains the same. Problems change. 

This is one problem none of them have had to face.

In 1967 now there was talk of the Senior NCO 

Academy, which eventually came into being 

down at Maxwell.

Right.

Was there a genuine need for it, and who pushed it?

Yes. [Lt Gen John W. Carpenter III] was commander of Air 

University [AU] when I first went on the job. I can remember talking to 

General Carpenter about a senior academy, which would be at Air Force 

level, but it was his belief Air University would be the ideal place. I had no 

strong feelings for or against where it was; I just wanted one. I didn’t think 

we would get one. I was very, very surprised that General [John D.] Ryan, 

when things were getting lean, when we started hurting for the dollar, 

approved the senior academy.

That came into being in 1971. What did you see the 

Senior NCO Academy was supposed to do? 

What was its purpose in your mind?

I looked upon it as the top level of professional military education 

for a noncommissioned officer. I looked upon it more as an inducement, 

something to really strive for. I even thought we would see the day you 

would have to graduate before they could be considered for chief, but it 

hasn’t developed into that, and possibly, it shouldn’t. But it would be the 

tops in professional military education, and one who went through it should 

graduate with much pride.

When you went to a base, would there be a notice 

posted in the DB [Daily Bulletin] that CMSAF Paul Airey 

was going to be there and anybody that wanted to see 

him could see him at such-and-such a time?

Yes. It happened in that way, but usually they had set up meetings 

at the base theater or clubs. I always requested a full itinerary that would 

keep me busy and one that I would be able to meet the maximum amount of 

troops. At most bases I would be the guest speaker at a dining-out or diningin. In addition, I normally wanted to receive the command briefing. In that 

way I knew what was going on at the activity I was visiting.

Did you ever feel you were getting the dog and 

pony show?

Oh, yes, but you know, you have to be pretty stupid not to know 

when that’s going on. They would take you to this particular barrack. You 

would say, “Well, let’s go see this one.” “Well, this is the one”—Well, just 

for the hell of it, we will see both.”

In retrospect has the senior enlisted advisor 

position and the chief master sergeant and the 

sergeant major all added up to a better enlisted 

corps in the Air Force?

By having these positions, I think it has led to the betterment 

of the NCO corps. The fact that we have NCOs in a position where they 

work directly for the commander and represent the enlisted people in that 

organization has increased the prestige of our NCOs. Of course, we have 

several people who bad-mouthed the job. Some are jealous of it. We must, 

however, pick the best possible chief for these jobs. He must be someone 

the young Airmen look up to and respect and one who projects the proper 

image. In addition, he must be the type that the young Airmen will approach 

with their problems.

44
When you left the office of Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force, you didn’t retire did you?

No, I stayed on for 1 year to the day.

And you came back down here to Tyndall?

Yes.

What job did you take down here?

I was in a combat crew training squadron.

Can you realistically come from that job 

to another enlisted job in the Air Force?

I see some very few select positions or assignments that a former 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force might hold, but they are few and 

far between. To return to the mainstream of the Air Force would be a 

mistake. It was a mistake for me. I was actually looking for—pending a 

special assignment that never really came about. In addition, I wanted 

to do the 30 years. Then, also, I wanted to probably finish up my career 

with a tour in Vietnam. But to make a long story short, I really feel that 

the Air Force wants you out. There is really not that much place for two 

Chief Master Sergeants of the Air Force at any one time. And rightfully so. 

Everyone who followed me retired from the job.

What did you find as an NCO throughout your career 

and, obviously, as Chief Master Sergeant of the Air 

Force that makes morale good versus a lowering of 

morale? Did you ever see any number of things that 

could contribute to good morale?

I think there are a lot of things. Number one, leadership is the 

key to everything. If you don’t have leadership, you are not going to have 

morale. Also, mission, job fulfillment, but number one, go right back 

to that key word, leadership. You can have mediocre facilities, you can 

have a remote area to be stationed at, you can have all types of things that 

aren’t that good, miserable climate and everything else, but if you have 

leadership, you can get good morale.

45
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Donald L. Harlow

August 1, 1969 - October 1, 1971

In the late 1930s, after dropping 

out of high school to support his mother, 

Donald Harlow found himself working 

in a department store for “one of the 

greatest bosses I ever had.” He learned 

the value of hard work and the hard 

reality that no matter how good you are, 

there are always others who can do the 

job just a little bit better. As a teenager 

whose father had died when he was just 

two years old, he valued the guidance and 

opportunities to learn.

Harlow was born on 22 

September 1920 in Waterville, Maine. 

Twenty-two years later, in August 1942, 

he was drafted into the Army Air Forces 

and reported to basic training in Atlantic 

City, New Jersey. Following World War 

II he was discharged but remained in the 

inactive reserve, knowing that if he ever 

decided to serve again he wouldn’t have 

to start all over. In August 1950 that 

proved a wise decision. He was recalled 

to the active duty Air Force and began his 

career in personnel.

Nineteen years later, after serving 

as a first sergeant and personnel sergeant 

major, Gen John D. Ryan selected Harlow 

as the second Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force (CMSAF). On 1 August 1969, 

he replaced Paul Airey and immediately 

began to clarify the role and purpose 

of the position. He focused on many 

problems brought to him by the young 

enlisted force serving in a time of war, 

including racial tensions and assignment 

concerns. He also championed the 

Weighted Airman Promotion System, 

which was fully implemented in 1970. 

After his two-year tenure, Harlow retired 

from the Air Force but continued to 

serve as a lobbyist on Capitol Hill, always 

focusing his efforts on improving the 

quality of life of enlisted Airmen. Harlow 

passed away on 18 June 1997.

The Air Force Historical 

Research Center interviewed Harlow on 

9–10 December 1980, in Washington, 

DC. During the interview, Harlow 

discussed his early years in the Army Air 

Corps, establishing a unit in Morocco, and 

his experience as a personnel NCO in the 

1950s and 1960s. The complete interview 

can be accessed on the Air University 

Library online research center.1 

46
Portions of the interview are printed below. The order of some 

of the questions and answers has been adjusted to depict a chronological 

reflection on the life and career of Donald L. Harlow. 

Your childhood, was it—of course, obviously, it 

probably was a little more common in those days, I’m 

guessing, that children would leave school and go to 

work as opposed to the way—

Yes, that’s right.2

Did you feel that you had been slighted here at 

this point a little bit?

Not necessarily. All the time I was in school I had a paper route, 

and on weekends I would find jobs working, cleaning up basements for 

people. I always did something to keep busy and earn a little money. 

We would have heavy snowstorms, and I would take—in fact, I took 

three days off from school one time in a heavy snowstorm, and I earned 

considerable money in those days. I think it was a total of $15. I had to do 

a lot of shoveling in those days. That meant a lot to me to pick up that extra 

money to use at home on whatever little thing we needed. So I have never 

been one to just enjoy things. Well, I have enjoyed working. I am not a 

workaholic, but I have to keep doing something. I have to have something 

to do. I can’t just sit around.

Did you feel like an only child growing up in the 

sense that your brother and most of your sisters 

were gone?

No, not necessarily, because most of the family—sisters and 

brothers-in-law—lived around the area. I enjoyed, at Christmastime, 

as I used to go around and visit on Christmas Eve. I was working in the 

department store. On the way home, I would visit several of my sisters 

and brothers-in-law who had young children. I would stay there for 

Christmas, probably get home at six o’clock in the morning, so I never 

really felt alone.

You were obviously very young at this late 1930s 

and early 1940s period. Did the war in Europe and 

this kind of thing, was it of any interest to you, 

or even something that attracted your attention 

in any degree?

The war attracted my attention to this extent. In 1939, as you 

recall, they had a peacetime draft for the first time in this country. One 

night at the inn, I remember there was a young lady who was staying at the 

inn. I guess it was about nine o’clock one night, she came in and was crying. 

I said, “What’s happened? What’s gone wrong?” She came down to Fort 

Devens [Massachusetts] to visit her fiancé. At that time, he had just about 

served his year. Because of the happenings in the world, he was extended, 

indefinitely. Of course, that was a big shock to her and to him also. That was 

the first time, I think, that I had any real impact of what was really going on 

in the world. I knew right then and there that it would be soon, and I would 

be drafted. I wasn’t about to volunteer.

You got drafted into the Air Corps? 

After graduation I went to work for General Electric Company in 

Fitchburg, Massachusetts. I worked there for only about six months when 

[Pres. Franklin D.] Roosevelt sent me greetings. So I was drafted out of 

Massachusetts and went in at Fort Devens in the Army Air Corps—well, it 

was the Army, really, then in August 1942. However, at that time they were 

screening everybody to determine whether they would go to the Army or 

the Army Air Corps—yes, it was the Army Air Corps at that time—and I was 

selected to go to the Army Air Corps. From there, I went to basic training 

at Atlantic City, New Jersey, and then I was sent to tech school at Buckley 

Field, Colorado. From there I was sent to Eagle Pass, Texas, to become an 

instructor in armament and gunnery for the cadets.

Atlantic City, what installation was at Atlantic City 

that you had basic training at?

Actually, they took many of the hotels on the strip, on the boardwalk.

Oh, you were in one of those? 

They stripped the hotels down to nothing, and that’s where we did 

our training. They just put GI bunks and a footlocker in the rooms.

But as far as actual combat infantry training, you never 

went through that because you were in the Air Corps?

Yes.

Then this Buckley Field. Where was that in Colorado? 

That was not too far, probably about 10 miles from Lowry [AFB]. 

That’s where you took this armament training? 

What did they train you on, the .50 caliber?

20 millimeter, .50 caliber, various armaments that we had at that 

time. The 37 millimeter cannon and guns like that. Then of course, when I 

went to Eagle Pass, I taught those guns in ground school to cadets.

47
Were you training them in, like they had deuce and 

a half with simulated gun turrets from airplanes 

and that kind of thing?

No. It covered the actual field stripping and putting the guns 

together, adjusting them, also in the synchronization, because in the plane 

you fired the guns through the propeller so you had to synchronize them 

with the propeller. When I went to Matagorda Island [Texas], I was doing 

the same thing in the ground school—only this time they were graduates. 

They were second lieutenants out of flying school.

During my tour there, I also wrote and prepared tests. They had 

never had any real lesson plans or tests in those days. Everything was fast 

and furious because the time element was something else. They were more 

concerned with mission and training, so I wrote the first test that was ever 

given at Matagorda Island to the second lieutenants. I took it over to the 

ops [operations] officer, a lieutenant colonel, and I will never forget him. 

He looked at the thing, and he said, “Sure glad I don’t have to take this 

test.” That is when I got interested in academics, because I found there 

was so much opportunity there. There was so much you could do to help 

people. Then in the spring of 1945, the hurricane came along, and we got 

blown off the island. We had to evacuate.

Were they using that for a bomb range, too?

Bombing range, training, yes. At that time, we got transferred to 

Foster Field, Victoria, Texas. I thought I was pretty smart then; I finagled 

a couple of three-day passes so they couldn’t catch up with me and put me 

on KP [kitchen police]. When I came back from the second one, I decided 

I had better do something. So I went to the sergeant major in personnel 

and told him I would like to go to work in personnel. They put me in the 

personnel processing section.

At that time, we had the old form 20 and the service record and 

the medical record and others. We had 12 different records, really, that 

we handled. I had one desk, and I was handling the form 20. I wanted to 

find out what they did with all the other records, so I visited around—I had 

two stripes at that time, was a corporal—and I found out what all the other 

people did with each one of their records. It so happened that about three 

or four months later, as the war started to wind down, the staff sergeant in 

charge of the section was going to be reassigned. The captain, our boss at 

that time, called me in and said, “I understand you are the only one who 

knows all of the desks here.” I said, “Yes. I don’t know if I am the only 

one, but I do know what everybody does.” He said, “Fine. When the staff 

sergeant leaves, you are in charge.”

In those days—it is interesting when you compare it to today—the 

captain was a pilot; he was assigned to us as the officer in charge of the 

processing. He spent most of his time in the training phase and in flying, 

and he used to come in the office at nine o’clock in the morning and leave 

at 10, come in to sign papers or answer any questions or anything else, and 

then he would come back in the afternoon, maybe about 1:30 or 2, and he 

would stay until about 3. He said, “This is the way you can always get in 

touch with me. In the meantime, you are in charge.” Well, here I was with 

two stripes, and I was in charge.

I only recall one time when they had a problem where a colonel from 

the hospital came in and raised a little hell, and I couldn’t satisfy him, so I 

had to call the captain. Otherwise, everybody knew I was in charge, and I 

didn’t overextend myself to that point, but we got the job done.

Was this pretty standard operating procedure for 

almost anything on the base where they would 

assign a commissioned officer to an office and, 

really, he let the NCOs run it then? 

For the most part, that was very true during the early days of the 

Army Air Corps. The officer was a policy decision maker, and the NCO ran 

the program. As I remember many a time that the officer would say, “What 

do you think?” And I would say, “According to the Army regulation, we 

are supposed to do it this way.” He was not that much concerned with the 

details. He was concerned about making the decision, and he depended on 

me to provide him with the facts on which he could base that decision.

One thing, you mentioned you went over to get 

into personnel. Why had you chosen personnel? 

Why not, let’s say, stay in armament or go into this 

or go into that?

I saw a lot of misuse of people, and I was always fascinated with how 

did they ever develop? How did these policies come out? Why do things 

happen? I was an inquisitive person, like I still am today. That’s the reason I 

thought personnel would be the most—and I figured from personnel I could 

get back into training. But that didn’t quite happen. 

Anyway, I enjoyed my tour at Foster Field, Victoria, Texas. Then 

the war came to an end in 1945. Before that, prior to the war ending, we 

had a WAF [Women in the Air Force] major who was chief of the Personnel 

Processing and Order Section and other types of programs that is now 

divided up between the director of administration and personnel.

On the first of the week of Thanksgiving, we had over 500 cadets 

transferred to Foster Field, Victoria, Texas, and we processed them all in on 

Monday and Tuesday. It so happened that on Tuesday evening, just before I 

was getting ready to close up, she called me over, because the captain was on 

a flying mission, and said they had just gotten orders down from ATC [Air 

Training Command] Headquarters, at that time, where these cadets were 

being reassigned to various bases throughout the United States. 

48
In fact, they were not cadets; they were actually lieutenants—

graduates. She said, “By next Monday, we are going to have to get going 

on these orders and cut them and get these people out of here.”

I had always felt this way, and I always knew, throughout my 

career and even on my job today, you do a little bit more than what your 

job probably is if you really want to get somewhere, if you really want to 

do something.

So on Wednesday, I talked to some people in processing, and I 

found out there were about three of four who were going somewhere for 

Thanksgiving. So I said, “If the rest of you will come in and work with 

me, we will process all of these records and get them all booked up and 

mail them out to these bases,” because we wanted to actually put them in 

the mail on Friday. “Then on Monday, these lieutenants can come in, and 

we will just give them their orders, and they can leave.” So we did. We 

worked Thanksgiving and up until about seven or eight o’clock that night, 

finished them all up, got them all wrapped and ready to mail.

On Friday morning, we took them to the post office, mailed them 

out. On Monday, the major called me over to her office. It was in the next 

building. And she said, “I don’t want you doing anything else today. We 

are not going to send anybody over there to process in or out. I just want 

you to get those records closed out and in the mail not later than tomorrow. 

I said, “I’m sorry, major, they are already gone.” She looked at me and 

said, “What do you mean?” I gave her the receipt—for all the orders—that 

they signed at the post office, because we sent them out certified.

As a result of that, a couple of months later, promotion quota came 

down for that base, and she insisted that if I didn’t make staff sergeant, she 

wouldn’t cut the orders. So I got promoted.

It was one of these types of things that, hell, we didn’t have 

anything to do on Thanksgiving. It is just these little extra things that you 

do that makes the difference between a good job or a mediocre job. 

I stayed there at Victoria, Texas, and Foster Field. The war 

was over. Of course, all these people had enough points for discharge 

(including me).

Did you make any consideration while you were 

on active duty in World War II about making the 

military a career or anything?

No. The only thing, during the outbriefing at Fort Sam Houston 

[Texas], the sergeant said, “When you get out and get discharged, that 

does not mean that you are not eligible for recall. If something happens 

in the next 10 years, you are subject to recall, and if you get recalled, you 

start all over again.” He was selling us the Reserve program. He said, “If 

you sign up in the Reserve, at least you can be guaranteed coming back with 

the rank that you have.” At that time, I thought, “Well, hell, if I’ve got to 

come back, I don’t want to come back and start all over again.” So I said, 

“Okay, I’ll sign up.”

I signed up in the Reserve and came back home, back to 

Massachusetts actually. My wife, Dottie, was living with her folks. Then we 

went up to Maine, and I got into the GI Bill, not to go to school but to take 

advantage of what they called the training program under the GI Bill. I went 

to work for a drug concern. They had about three stores in my hometown. 

It was primarily to be near my mother. She was ill. After my mother died, 

I wasn’t too happy up there, because everybody in town remembered me 

as a little kid that used to do figure skating. The drug business wasn’t that 

exciting to me. In the meantime, my wife’s folks were thinking of moving 

to California.

(Did) you (spend), actually, any time in any Reserve 

units? Were you going to meetings or anything? 

No, I was strictly a Reservist. The funny part of it is, not too far 

from Long Beach, California, I was talking to a gentleman who was in 

the Reserve, who used to participate in the Reserve program at the Long 

Beach Airport, and he got recalled about the same time that I did. He was a 

tech [technical] sergeant.

He got recalled as a captain only because of his participation in 

the Reserve. I didn’t participate at all so I got recalled as a staff sergeant, 

but I had built up quite a portfolio at that time with the business machine 

company, plus the College of Commerce. When I was recalled, I was 

recalled in armament again.

I went to Travis AFB [California]. When I walked in, of course, they 

were processing people like mad. The sergeant at the desk said, “You are 

going to be in armament; you go down to hangar so-and-so and report to soand-so.” I said, “Before I go, I would like to talk to the personnel officer.” I 

went in to see him, and I handed him the portfolio, and I told him, “I haven’t 

seen a gun; I don’t know anything about armament. I would like to have you 

take a look at my portfolio, and then let’s discuss it.” He looked through 

the letters, and he got up, and he said, “Wait here.” He walked outside his 

office, and I heard him say to the sergeant out there, “Get so-and-so and get 

a desk and a chair and put it right here outside my office.” He turned around 

to me, and he said, “You are going to be my sergeant major.” So I moved 

right into the sergeant major of personnel position.

49
Were you unhappy that you got recalled? 

I sort of suspected it, so I wasn’t really unhappy. I thought, well, 

this is—you know, for two years. It was a two-year recall, and with the 

Soldiers and Sailors Relief Act, you could always go back to the company, 

so there was no problem there. I said, “Well, hell, everybody else is 

being recalled. They are going to war so I might just as well.” But I was 

determined to get in personnel.

I went up to what was called the 5th and 9th Maintenance 

Squadron. It was a huge squadron, two squadrons “really, and all 

maintenance people. I had never seen such a mess in all of my life. It was, of 

course, during peacetime, and a lot of things happened. They were short 

of supplies, and people didn’t give a damn. It wasn’t too efficient. Nobody 

really cared too much, but when the Korean War started and things got 

moving, it still wasn’t straightened out. The major who was assigned to 

the group came over one day and was talking to the captain and myself. He 

said, “You know, you keep submitting this personnel report,”—called the 

P-l report in those days—“to base headquarters, and we haven’t had a right 

report in there for the last 8 or 10 months.”

After he left, I talked with the captain, and I went around and 

found out what was wrong, what was happening. The fact is, the morning 

report clerks, the personnel accountability, and the assignment report 

people were not talking to each other. In those days, the morning report 

was quite a complex thing. They took it away from the old book. You 

know, the old book, when I first got in the Army, the first sergeant had the 

book, and he just had to go down with marks, because that was the roll call. 

In those days, you had 5th and 9th Maintenance Squadron and 

hundreds of people.

I got together with the troops, and I said, “We are going to get 

this straightened out. I’m going to come back here every night at six 

o’clock, and I want at least two people out of this morning report area 

and two out of assignments and two out of the records section, and we 

are going to get this thing straightened out. We are going to work 

until we do.” We did that for two weeks, every night, but at the end of 

that two weeks, everything jibed. At the end of that month when we 

submitted the P-l report, that was the first one in nine months that was 

ever right. The troops, of course, they bitched like they always did, but 

they were delighted when the major came in, got us all together, and said, 

“This is great.” 

I had learned a lot of this in the business world. In a profit and loss 

situation, you don’t fool around. You either get with the program, or you 

don’t have a job.

Then it came about the middle of December, getting ready 

for Christmas, had the Christmas tree and everything on it, and I got 

notification that this one captain who worked in group and myself and 

a master sergeant had been tagged by SAC [Strategic Air Command] 

Headquarters to help form a new outfit.4

Yes, the 5th Air Division. 

It was the 5th Air Division. Of course, the worst part of it was we 

had to leave the day before New Year’s. Again, my wife was unhappy, but we 

made arrangements for her to go back to Long Beach, California, and found 

a place for her and the children. So one weekend we got them back down 

there, with what few belongings we had, and got them set up. I had a sister 

and brother-in-law in Long Beach, California, so that helped. They did have 

somebody near. In the meantime, her folks were unhappy in California and 

went back to Massachusetts.

At Travis, I amassed a pretty good record in personnel. At that time, 

there was a big political action going on. Every once in a while they would 

get word from SAC Headquarters that the 5th Maintenance Squadron or the 

5th Squadron was going to Korea. Then a little while later the word would 

come down that they had decided the 9th Maintenance Squadron was going.

Did you reenlist for a certain term, or was it an 

indefinite reenlistment?

At that time, they had the indefinite, and I did reenlist for an 

indefinite enlistment. 

So I went over[seas], and I was one of the first echelon to help open 

Morocco. That was fascinating. Our first office was on the French air base. 

The French NCOs saluted NCOs. I got to know a lot of people over there. I 

had taken French in school; I liked it.

I had to live in a hotel downtown. I thought, “Well, I had better 

take advantage of this.” So I met a young fellow who worked for the French 

railroad. He wanted to learn English, and I wanted to learn more French. 

I would get off the bus downtown, in front of a cafe, and I would have to 

walk maybe a block to go to my hotel. He was always at the cafe when we 

got off the bus, having an apéritif at the sidewalk cafe, so I would get off and 

meet him every night. We would chat back and forth. He would teach me 

French, and I would teach him English. It was quite interesting. We did that 

for about, oh, I guess two or three months.

Was morale pretty good over there?

Oh, yes. The only way we got a club is through the captain that I went 

over there with who got the troops together. He was great to the enlisted—

Capt William S. MacGregor. We didn’t have any lower grade enlisted. We 

all put in $20 to form the club, so we were all charter members of the club. 

That is the only way we could get enough to pay the lease and start off. We 

had slot machines there, and we made good money on them.

50
How many people did you have right there at the 

headquarters, would you guess?

Well, at the headquarters, I know from the NCO side we had a 

maximum of 270. That was maximum for NCOs at which probably 60 

percent had their dependents there. The rest of them were single. So we 

didn’t have too much of a draw, numbers wise, to the club, but that was 

the only place for them to go. I remember when we moved over to Agdal [a 

suburb of the Moroccan capital, Rabat], the club would never open until 

five o’clock. It was policy. They did not want anybody in there drinking.

It so happened that I had three maintenance people who were on 

night shift in the motor pool and other places, and they were off duty. So by 

11 o’clock they came to the club, and I would serve them. It so happened 

that one day the IG [inspector general] came in. Of course, he talked to 

me and was going to write me up. I said, “Fine, write me up, but if these 

troops can’t come in here, they are going to go down to the French bar, 

and they are going to spend more money, and they are not going to be 

treated as well.” When it got to [Gen] Archie Old, he said, “Forget it.”

Why don’t we (move ahead to) July 1965, according 

to your biography here, you became sergeant major, 

Executive Services Division, Office of the Vice Chief of 

Staff, Headquarters US Air Force, Washington, DC—

a very nice title.

Impressive, isn’t it? I was in EUCOM [European Command] in 

Paris, and I was the sergeant major of the Air Force element. Gen John P. 

McConnell was really the vice commander at that time of EUCOM. I had 

a captain who was my squadron commander, and the captain was not too 

willing to go over and deal with all of the generals. He was more concerned 

with pursuing his education because he was getting ready to retire. He 

was formerly enlisted then commissioned. He wanted to teach in a college 

or a university, so he was concerned with his educational pursuits, which 

is fine, because we had a small element over there. I told him I had no 

problems; I would be glad to deal with the generals.

One of the major projects I had in EUCOM was to provide aides 

for the generals, especially the Air Force generals. Anyway, it came time 

for the change of command for General McConnell. General [Jacob E.] 

Smart was coming in to take over. General McConnell’s aide called me 

and said, “Don, we have a flag in here with all the battle streamers on it, but 

it is old, worn out, and terrible. We need one for this change-of-command 

ceremony.” I had written six months ago and requested the purchase of a 

new one through the regular supply channels, but we certainly were not 

going to get it in time for the ceremony. He said, “Do you think you can 

help me?” I said, “Yes, I think so.”

To make a long story short, I was instrumental in getting the flag 

and hand carrying it over to them for the ceremony. In the meantime, after 

General McConnell got reassigned back to Headquarters USAF as the vice 

chief, his aide, Col Bill Frasca, was dealing with a Major Russell who headed 

the Executive Services Division, which is really the administrative support 

division for the chief of staff of the Air Force, and the vice chief of staff 

of the Air Force. They had a senior master sergeant there as the NCOIC 

[noncommissioned officer-in-charge] of the executive services. Bill Frasca 

said to Major Russell, “You know, that’s a chief’s slot. Why don’t you have 

a chief in it?” He said, “Well, I’m hoping that one of my sergeants will get 

promoted.” Bill Frasca said, “Well, I know a chief over in Paris that I think 

would do a good job for you.”

The major called me on the phone one day and wanted to know if 

I would be interested in working there. He said, “How about coming back 

TDY [temporary duty] and taking a look?” I said, “Well, I will tell you what 

I will do. My requirements here are such that I don’t feel as if I could come 

back TDY. If you and Colonel Frasca feel that you need me over there and 

want me, you take what initiative you need to take, and I’ll be there.” So 

going through personnel, they curtailed my tour nine months, and I was 

reassigned and became sergeant major of the Executive Services Division, in 

charge of all the administration, all the staff summary sheets, and everything 

else that flowed through there.

Did you have any—it was during your time you were up 

at the executive services up there that the concept or 

the idea or whatever flowered or bloomed to have this 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force position. Were 

you in anyway associated with giving that idea a kick 

or a germ?

No. This came up when [Cong.] L. Mendel Rivers [D-SC] was the 

chairman of the House Armed Services Committee. He was the one who was 

pushing this, and none of the service chiefs wanted it. However, they were 

told very emphatically that they were going to have a top NCO whether they 

wanted one or not.

51
I got the impression, in reading, that it looks as 

though he presented the bill or brought the bill up 

to kick military services. He said, “If you don’t do it 

on your own, I am going to do it.” Then he never passed 

the bill, and the service created it on its own.

That’s right. He had an Army warrant officer aide. Mendel Rivers 

used to travel a lot, and the warrant officer performed a lot of functions as 

his aide. Mendel Rivers liked the guy. I think it was the warrant officer, 

himself, who suggested this after they came into the senior and chief or 

E-8 and E-9 ranks in the military services, because you know they had a 

pretty strong structure of sergeant majors in the Army. That was really the 

seed that was planted. Why not have one sergeant major for the whole?

This raises the question now—I’ll quote you again—

there was, as I understand it, no such thing, either 

by Air Force regulation or anything, called a 

sergeant major.

No. 

That was just a fiction. 

It was a terminology which was used unofficially. Being the 

ranking noncommissioned officer, working for the chief and vice chief 

at the Pentagon, when President [Lyndon B.] Johnson had his reception 

over in the White House. The presidents usually have them every year. 

I was the only enlisted man from the Air Force, my wife and I, to go as a 

representative of the Air Force because of that position I held up there, 

and it was more or less called the sergeant major of the Air Force at that 

time. It was an unofficial term.

I have got that invitation framed from the White House with 

President Johnson’s signature because the word sergeant is misspelled. It 

is embossed printing and beautiful. 

Now, this was while you were in the 

Executive Services?

Yes, Executive Services Division.

They held you as the senior NCO of the Air Force?

At that time and in that particular case.

That’s interesting. I mean this thing was really 

growing all the time then.

When I was up there, a bill was passed. It gave the opportunity 

for the service chiefs to select their own individuals and establish their 

own criteria. It didn’t stipulate the period of time the individual would 

serve, nothing.

However, while I was there, they appointed a board of three to come 

up with criteria for the position, and the exec for the chief of staff happened 

to be down in our area one day reproducing some things and asked about my 

being eligible. I was not eligible at that time.

I was asking him about the criteria they were establishing, and he 

mentioned the fact that it was 18 years, because at that time you could make 

chief at 16 years of service, which I did. So they established 18 years of 

service, and I said to the exec at that time, “That’s a mistake.” He was a very 

arrogant individual in many ways, and I think he resented any enlisted man 

saying an officer was making a mistake. He looked at me very stern, and he 

said, “What do you mean, sergeant?” I said, “Colonel, let’s say that you select 

an individual or the chief selects an individual, and he goes out in the field 

and somehow he screws up and causes embarrassment to the chief and the 

secretary. How are you going to get rid of him without further embarrassment? 

Are you going to direct his retirement? Maybe you would have to put him in 

the hospital and tell people he is sick, and then people find out he is not sick. 

To my way of thinking, you can’t select anybody with less than 20 years of 

service, because if he screws up, he can retire on his own at the suggestion 

of the chief.”

Well, as the result of that statement, even though he didn’t like it, 

the next time the committee met he asked me to sit in on the committee. At 

that time, they were considering a four-year tour. I told them, “Being in an 

advisory capacity and not a member of the decision-making process, I don’t 

suggest four years. I suggest a two-year term. Number one, I foresee the 

travel to be extensive; number two, if it is a four-year term, in 12 years you 

can only have three. There are lots of noncommissioned officers out there 

who are chiefs that are damn good. With a two-year term, in 12 years you can 

have six. I think it is more reasonable to give more people an opportunity to 

be in that advisory capacity rather than trying to make this a position of some 

authority or decision making.” So they agreed.

They also established the criteria of 22 years of service. So I felt I 

was instrumental. Then later on, when it came to selecting the insignia for 

the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, they brought in the blouses and 

the different insignia, and I modeled them before the chief and his staff. One 

of the insignia was the current E-9 stripes with another strip above it, which 

looked very, very—I don’t know, it was too much. The one with the wreath 

was very dignified and very beautiful, and that’s the one I suggested, and 

they all bought it.

52
Were you in on the process, then, of let’s get each 

command to recommend one or two people? Like SAC, 

for example, got to recommend three as opposed to 

each of the other commands could recommend only 

one or two or something like that. 

The committee itself said, “In order to be fair about this, we 

should give the commanders the opportunity to make a selection and 

recommendation.” The larger commands, like SAC, could recommend 

two; the smaller commands could recommend one. They would hold a 

screening board at Randolph. Of course, I agreed with that because I said, 

“This is going to be an honor. Even if an individual was just selected by his 

command, it is a great honor.”

Did you say the board met at Randolph?

Yes, the board was responsible for identifying the top three of 

all those being interviewed, and the records then were forwarded to the 

chief’s office at the Pentagon. In the meantime, they had a more extensive 

background investigation. Then between the execs of the chief and the 

vice chief and others, they reviewed the records. Then they called those 

three into the Pentagon to be personally interviewed by the chief. As a 

result of that interview, the one individual was selected.

Obviously, anything that is done there is always 

going to be, for whatever reason, somebody who 

says we shouldn’t do that. Was there anybody in the 

Pentagon, officer or enlisted, at any level that said, 

“Hell, we don’t need this slot. This is just a bunch 

of crap. What are we doing here?” Did that kind of 

attitude exist any place?

Yes, there are always those people, and there were some general 

officers as well as colonels and others, “We are not in favor of this 

position.” I think they were more afraid of what was going to result from 

somebody filling that position, fear of the unknown, rather than turning it 

around to a positive attitude of assisting the individual.

I was very fortunate. I will tell you very frankly. I was perhaps more 

fortunate than anyone that’s been in that position because I served in the 

Pentagon for four years before I was in the position. I knew the Pentagon. 

I knew the people; they knew me, and I had a feel for both the political 

as well as the military operation from that point, from the head shed on 

down, so I had an advantage over others, those who came from the field 

who never had that opportunity.

Were you at any time told that here you were, in effect, 

holding the office before the office actually existed, 

in a certain sense—did they ever say to you, “Don, we 

aren’t going to give you a shot at it this time. You go 

out in the field, then the next time around we will”—

was there any of that kind of stuff going on? 

No. None whatsoever. In fact, as I said, I was not eligible for the first 

time because I didn’t have the 22 years. I had a little over 20 at that time, so 

I was not eligible . . . the first time. When the second selection came up, they 

decided to extend [CMSAF Paul W.] Paul Airey, the first one, to coincide 

with the chief, who was moving in there in August, which was fine.

I was recommended by my boss, and I had to go over for an interview 

to Headquarters Command, at that time, and there were three of us there, 

and I was selected from Headquarters Command to go to Randolph. I 

was thoroughly pleased and delighted with it, but I’ll never forget the 

first sergeant down there. The old time first sergeant, Chief Dailey, at the 

barbecue the night before the interview, called me over and said, “Don, do 

you really want the position?” I said, “That’s amazing. Why do you ask?” 

He said, “Well, nobody really knows you. We know you work up at the 

Pentagon, but you know, you are not well known out in the field. Although 

you’ve got an impressive record, we just want to know what your feelings 

are.” I told him at that time, “Joe,” his name was Joe Dailey, “I’m very, very 

fortunate, and I’m thankful for being selected to come this far, but I work for 

the chief and vice chief. I don’t think I even have a chance of being selected 

because that would be something against me right from the beginning. They 

would say”—the people in the field, especially other chiefs—“Why did we go 

through this whole process when the guy has been working for the chief for 

four years? Why didn’t they just say it, you know?” (laughter) So I said, “No. 

I am grateful for coming this far. You look around; we have some damn good 

chiefs here.” And there were. There were some tremendous individuals. 

The competition is fierce.

Anyway, when I went back to the Pentagon, Colonel Elliott called 

me over and asked me how it went. I said, “Fine, but I would like to say 

just one thing. That is it. I am going back to work.” He said, “What do you 

mean?” I said, “Hey, no way I want to get the job. Not that I even expected 

to be recommended, but having worked here for the chief and the vice chief 

for four years, you know, I already have a strike against me when I go out in 

the field.” He said, “So you really don’t want it if you were selected?” I said, 

“That’s right.” He said, “Okay.”

I would like to put it in history, because it is a fact. I was not one 

of the first three that was nominated from Randolph. One of the three 

individuals that was nominated, through investigation of his background, 

had in his records that he had a college degree, and it was found that he had 

gotten somebody in personnel to make that entry in his record. 

53
54
55
He did not, in fact, have a college degree. When the chief found 

out about that, he said, “Send all the records back and let’s start all over 

again.” So he sent them back to the board, and the board reviewed all of 

the records again. When they came back, I was one of the three.

Did this individual who had falsified his records, had 

he done that in response to being selected, or had he 

done this years before?

I don’t know, and I did not inquire. However, I did not know that 

my record had returned for consideration. I found this all out afterwards. 

[Neither] Colonel Elliott, nor anyone else, said anything to me, which I 

understood. I went back to work, happy as a lark, and knew that was it.

Then one day Colonel Elliott called me, or called my boss, and 

said, “Have Don come over.” So my boss said, “Colonel Elliott wants to 

see you.” Oftentimes he would call me for different things, and he wouldn’t 

bother my boss. I went over and he said, “Come with me a minute.” He 

opened the door into the vice chief’s office—General [John D.] Ryan was 

the vice chief, and there was a whole group of people in there.

General Ryan got up from his chair and stuck out his hand, and 

he said, “Congratulations. You are our new Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force.” It so shocked me that I went up and shook his hand and said, 

“Thank you very much.” I turned around, and I walked out of there.

Colonel Elliott grabbed me by the arm as I was going out the door, 

and he said, “Wait a minute. We have to have some pictures taken.” It just 

didn’t sink in what the hell he said.

Oh, that’s a great story. 

I will never forget it. 

The next question is . . . you were down there in the 

executive services when the first Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force was created. Was there any 

conflict between what you were doing and this office 

of the chief?

None whatsoever, because Paul Airey probably had the most 

difficult job. He had to establish the image of the position and the office 

itself, and he had to travel extensively, which he did. His primary emphasis 

was more or less with the senior noncommissioned officers at that time 

because it was all new, and they didn’t know too much about the position 

or anything else. So Paul did a great job in establishing the office, establish 

the image, establish the purpose. It was good.

My following Paul and having been at the Air Force, then I could 

concentrate on the issues, the policies, the programs, and could get to the 

younger people, which was necessary at that time.

When you were at the Executive Services Division, what 

was your observation as to how policy for enlisted 

men was created? I mean, as to, oh, the proficiency 

tests and promotions. Where did you see these things 

being generated in the Air Force that affected 

enlisted men?

Well, they were generated in the Air Staff. The DCS [deputy 

chief of staff]/personnel]—as far as I was concerned and through my 

observation—was the only one that I recall that was really effective and 

really pushed for the enlisted corps while I was assigned to that job, 

General [Horace M.] Wade.5 

He was the one that said the limitations on our promotional 

opportunities, especially at the higher grades, were ridiculous. At that time, 

I think through the grade of master sergeant it was some 10 percent of the 

total force. Of course, E-8 and E-9 was limited—2 percent for E-8 and 1 

percent for E-9 by law. That was when the grades were established, but the 

lower grades were very low, and he was instrumental in getting approval from 

Congress to increase the grade of master sergeant to 13 percent, 

promotional opportunity.

He was also responsible for keeping the promotional flow going 

through the implementation of the up-or-out program. Even though today 

the up-or-out program has to be looked at very carefully because of our lack 

of resources and our lack of new manpower resources within our civilian 

communities, but at that time promotions were becoming stagnated. It 

happens during peacetime when people stay in, and the people at the top don’t 

get out; then it just filters back down so the promotional opportunities become 

less and less.

So it was General Wade who developed a study group to come up 

with this up-or-out program. In other words, if a staff sergeant could not get 

promoted to tech sergeant at the 20-year point, then he had to go. It was not 

a good program to the extent that there were an awful lot of staff sergeants 

whom I saw out there in the field who would have stayed in the rest of their 

lives. They would have died in the military. They were good in their job; 

they didn’t have the potential for promotion. They would never go beyond 

the grade of staff sergeant, and they would never do anything of any value 

outside of their particular specialty, but they were great. They loved the Air 

Force, and it was a shame that we had to arbitrarily move them out.

56
How did you feel that the Office of the Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force, once it was created, was it 

a long time before it actually got to the point where 

it was being effective? 

Well, I’ll express it in this manner. Each individual who has held 

that office has had the opportunity of increasing the effectiveness and the 

overall participation of the individual in the position to become more and 

more involved in the various aspects of the Air Force people programs. 

As I say, Paul Airey had a very difficult decision to make at the time he 

was in because it was during the Vietnam War in which we had a critical 

shortage of noncommissioned officers, and it was a point of making a 

decision in calling an E-3 a buck sergeant. That had a major impact on the 

force, and in some quarters, Paul was accused of doing something that was 

inappropriate, and another case it was great, but at that time, Paul was the 

first one, and he had members of the Air Staff briefing him and why it was 

necessary. I don’t think he had any real alternative except to support it.

Since then there have been changes. They didn’t like the 

term “airman second class.” So there have been a lot of changes as a 

result of this.

No, I think the Air Staff at that time got inputs from all over, but 

I don’t think the Air Staff, in a general sense—I say some of them did, but 

in a general sense—I didn’t think they really had a deep understanding of 

what the real needs of the enlisted people were.

Now, if you recall, we went through a period of time where the 

noncommissioned officers lost a lot of their authority.

While we are on the subject then, did you ever get 

involved in any study or what your personal view 

was while you were Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force about the idea of warrant officers?

That has been a sore subject ever since E-8 and E-9 positions 

were developed. One of the things that both Paul Airey and myself did, 

and even [CMSAF] Dick Kisling during our tenure in that position was to 

push for more authority by the senior noncommissioned officer.

See, when they created these two grades, all they did was promote 

you. They really didn’t give you any more authority. You couldn’t sign any 

official documents; you couldn’t make any major decisions. There were 

lots of things you just couldn’t do. You just had two more grades to go.

Based on what you were saying previously, you don’t 

think the warrant officer position was really, excuse 

the expression, “warranted” then?

The warrant officer in the Air Force really lost the overall concept of 

what the warrant officer was in the old Army. In fact, even in the Army today, 

the warrant officer is not what they used to be. The warrant officer used to 

be a highly qualified specialist who knew the directives, knew the programs, 

and everything else, and he was more or less utilized as an advisor and a key 

individual in various policies, programs, and everything else. That has since 

changed completely.

I will never forget when I was at ROTC [Reserve Officers Training 

Corps] duty at Southern Methodist University that the Air University put 

out a flyer as to what a warrant officer was. It said he was neither an officer 

nor an enlisted man.

That was their definition. (laughter) 

He was unique in the fact that he was given a warrant for this 

position. We had one there, and I said, “Hey, you are neither fish nor fowl. 

What the hell are you?” (laughter)

We used to joke about it, but this became a very difficult thing. 

What do you do with a warrant officer in our structure? Now that the E-8 

and E-9 positions were created in 1958, where does the warrant officer fit 

in? Do we have another supervisory level in here? 

So it was the decision of the Air Force at that time to look at it very 

carefully and say, “Do we really need that position?” I suspect a lot of those 

positions were converted to the officer positions, although the E-8s and 

E-9s were, supposedly, to replace the warrant. Of course, the Army uses the 

warrant, primarily, today in flying.

57
How did the lower grades of enlisted people look on 

you and your office? Did they see you as part of the 

establishment, or did you really feel that you had 

some kind of rapport going with the individuals?

Well, my first, probably, six months on the job was difficult in the 

fact that I had to try to evaluate myself in that position and how effective 

I was with young people, because I spent more time with young people. 

I had a crewcut haircut, you know. So to a lot of them that maybe put up 

sort of a little front—this is a lifer. However, I made it a point to spend time 

talking and answering questions to groups of young people or talking to 

them individually. Many of them found out that I also had enough integrity 

where—I remember talking to an airman first class, three-striper, and I 

asked him how he was getting along.6 “Fine, but I’m getting out as soon 

as I can.” I said, “Why?” He said, “I want to let my hair grow.” I said, 

“You mean to say you would give up any opportunity you might have for 

advancement or more experience just to let your hair grow?” He said, 

“That’s right.” I said, “Then I wish you luck, because I suggest you do 

get out.” These people around me looked at me, but I was sincere. If that 

was his only hang-up, we didn’t need him. An attitude like that can hurt 

a lot of people.

This hair thing. I guess I’m just of the older 

generation already. Going through the publications 

back there in the Air Force Times, this hair 

thing just—

It was a big thing. We had a commander over in Hawaii that 

got chastised, and he finally—they didn’t take any further action except 

to raise hell with him, but you know, a lot of aircraft came in there with 

Army, Navy, and all kinds of troops on R&R [rest and recuperation], and 

he used to go out to these contract aircrafts. He didn’t care if it was Army, 

Navy, or who it was, if their hair wasn’t right, he would pull them off the 

damn plane. That only happened a couple of days when the word got 

out, and they called him up and said, “Hey, you cut that out before you 

have the whole Department of Defense on our ass.” But he was one of 

the old school.

What was the answer you would give why hair 

could not be long?

Well, in the first place, my basic philosophy was that we are 

charged with the responsibility of protecting the security of our nation. 

Secondly, for the most part, the American people have little confidence 

in the hippies and the people who now in this nation are defying the basic 

principles of democracy on which our nation was built. Third, if we are 

going to serve our nation, we have to portray an image that others will 

respect, and going around in a clean, nice uniform with long hair, that 

detracts from the true professional image of what we should be, it is just not 

right. Just because others do it, doesn’t mean we have to.

According to an interview you made in the Airman 

Magazine, it says, “The two most frequent gripes the 

enlisted men have are assignments and promotions.” 

This was in 1969. After you served there and got out, 

did that still remain predominant? 

It still is—well, promotions, of course, will always be. 

Yes. 

It’s always a case that, “This guy is a drunk; he spends all his time 

at the club. He gets promoted, and I am working hard and doing my job, 

and I didn’t get promoted.” The other thing is the fact that they still think, 

to some degree, that the WAPS system is not the fairest system, but it is 

the best system we have ever come up with. The number of congressionals 

dropped dramatically once we went into that program.

Where did that WAPS develop? 

That was developed in the Air Staff, and it was held in abeyance 

for some time until the Congress got real upset because of the number of 

congressionals that was coming in. John Ford, the professional staff member 

on the House Armed Services Committee, talked with the people in the 

Air Staff and said, “We are going to have to hold some hearings on that.” 

At that time is when they told the Congress that they had developed the 

WAPS system, and the Congress said, “You had better do something 

quick,” and they did.

It started out in Alaska first, is that correct?

Yes. They tried it out in one command first; then by direction of 

Congress, they decided to put it in, after some refinements. It has worked out 

extremely well. 

Why was there a reluctance on the Air Force 

to originally implement it?

It is like any new program. People don’t like change. They like what 

they know and they understand even though it is not the best. Something 

new adds to the problem.

58
Well, did you find yourself having to not only sell 

the office of the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air 

Force to the Air Staff as much as you had to sell it 

to the people you were supposed to be representing? 

Were you kind of in a lone situation there?

I think it was important for the people out in the field to understand 

the limitations of the job. I told them I was an advisor. “The things I find 

here I can take back and relate to the Air Staff some of the problems we 

encounter. I am not in the decision process; however, there are many 

policies and programs and papers that come through in which they ask my 

opinion, and as a result of these visits, I perhaps am in a better position to 

analyze them and give a better opinion.”

That’s why I worked with the Air Staff in that sense. As I say, with 

each individual who has filled the job, the importance and the involvement 

in the programs and everything else has increased steadily. Chief [James 

M.] McCoy is deeply involved in these programs.

In fact, to be honest with you, there was no such thing as an enlisted 

man ever going over and testifying before the Congress, absolutely 

unheard of. You don’t do that, even the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air 

Force. Paul Airey was over there with the Speaker of the House and was 

introduced, but that was it. It was a new job; it was a new terminology.

After I got into this job and had been over on the Hill and testified 

several times on several issues of importance to the Air Force, they got 

to realizing that maybe enlisted men were not completely stupid, and the 

last two Chief Master Sergeants of the Air Force have been over there in 

testimony. Of course, the Air Force prepares the testimony and tells them 

what to say, where the difference is that I prepare my testimony. I don’t 

have to go through the establishment.7

I feel I have done the job in such a way that I respect the Air Force; 

I respect the Congress, and they have shown respect to me. So now, it 

seems the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force or the senior NCO does 

have the qualifications and can make a reputable appearance before that 

distinct body.

In 1970 they were talking about the all-volunteer 

force already, and of course, doing away with the 

draft. Did you, as the Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force, get into the pros and cons of that in 

any way, shape, or form?

Oh, yes. In the first place, we have never been a service to have to 

draft anybody, so it really had no meaning to us in that sense. We felt that 

by going to the all-volunteer service when they were talking about increased 

pay and benefits, it would enhance all of the services, including the Air 

Force, so why oppose something that could better it?

But you have to also admit, though, that without the 

draft there was less than 100 percent incentive to 

join another branch of the service other than the 

Army. That obviously had to enter in, too.

No, not necessarily. You know, there are some people who are 

gung ho. They love the Army. That’s their life. They love that discipline.

Yes, but I mean to say, the fact that there was a 

draft certainly was an impetus for people to join 

the Air Force.

Yes, join the Air Force and also the Reserve. The concern was that 

we were not going to have those people volunteering for the Reserve, not for 

the Air Force.

Oh, you never felt the Air Force was suffering?

I don’t think the Air Force suffered. I felt there would be a very 

definite impact on those participating in the Reserve. A lot of people joined 

the Reserve because they were in school, college, or had a job so they wouldn’t 

have to be drafted, but they would still be fulfilling their commitment.

You say the Air Force didn’t benefit that much 

from the draft?

No, because we still had a lot of people that volunteered for the 

Air Force because we are a technical service. It was also that period of time 

in the early 1970s when even getting out of college, go to find a job, they 

would say, “What’s your experience?” And he didn’t have any. We picked 

up a lot of people in the Air Force that came in just to get the experience. So 

my personal concern was not that great.

59
Did you, then, after they started getting your field 

trip reports, would they call you down just to talk 

with you at all? 

One time I happened to be going down the hallway and Secretary 

[of the Air Force, Robert C.] Seamans saw me, and he said, “Chief, how 

about coming in?” When I say “chief,” there is another thing that I think 

is very important to put in this history.

When the E-9s were called chief master sergeant, I felt we had to 

do something because they didn’t really have the importance of the job, 

it wasn’t significant. It was pay, promotion, and everything else, so I put 

in a recommendation that all E-9s be called “chief,” and that when E-9s 

answer the phone, they say, “chief so-and-so.” If it was a matter of being 

assigned to a joint command where you have Navy chiefs, you just say, 

“chief master sergeant so-and-so.”

I sent that up to General Ryan. Of course, he gave it to the staff, 

and finally he came back about a month later and said, “This may be done 

unofficially, but the regulation will not be changed.” The next trip was 

over in the Pacific.

Col “Don” Stanfield was the commander over at Ubon [AB, 

Thailand], hell of a guy with the troops; everybody loved him. [We were] 

sitting at the club, and I was telling him about this.

I got back from that trip, and as soon as I walked into the office, 

Mary “Mickey” Mortis said, “Hey, Chief, you are in trouble again.” I said, 

“Oh, Mary, what the hell is wrong now?” Colonel Stanfield had directed 

the next day, and they sent me copies of the daily bulletin, in which he said, 

“All E-9s will be addressed as ‘chief,’ and all E-9s that answer the phone 

will answer the phone as ‘chief so-and-so.’” And of course, somebody sent 

it to the chief of staff’s office, and it came down to our office.

Well, I expected a call—never got one, but that is what started 

it, and it picked up, and now the [regulation] is changed, and an E-9 is 

a chief. I have got to attribute this not just to my suggestion. I have got 

to attribute it more to the people who were selected and filled the job as 

senior enlisted advisors, because they enhanced that opportunity to get 

the title “chief.”

My impression is that the Air Force kind of stumbled 

into this senior enlisted advisor for the commands 

and so forth. It seems like one command did it 

and maybe another didn’t, and somebody said, 

“Well, let’s have one.” 

Okay. Let me give you the background on that. At the time the first 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force was selected, there was a CMSgt 

Conrad Stephens who was assigned to MAC [Military Airlift Command].8

He was one of the top three when Paul Airey was selected. In fact, he was 

recommended three times for the position, and he made it as one of the top 

three the first three times.

Never made it.

He never made it for reasons I would rather not say. After he was 

one of the top three the first time, General [Jack J.] Catton was commander 

of MAC, and General Catton sent a letter in stating he wanted to establish 

the position within MAC and have Conrad Stephens be called the chief 

master sergeant of MAC. That went to the Air Staff, and comments were that 

they felt it was wrong to be called the chief master sergeant of a command 

because the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force was such a new title that 

it could be easily misconstrued or perceived as being rather confusing.

At the time, I talked to General Ryan and others about having a 

senior or a chief at the command level. General [Robert J.] Dixon was very 

much opposed to it, because his concern was that we were going to set up 

a chain of command like the Army sergeant majors. The Army sergeant 

majors—I don’t know if they still have it—but they used to have the authority 

to hire and fire enlisted people, which to me was always wrong.

Anyway, General Dixon shot that down. So the suggestion was 

processed through. General Ryan said, “Well, I can’t dictate to major 

commander that they will have one. If they want one, that’s their decision.” 

At first, several of them didn’t want one, but as others got them and as these 

proved to be successful, and the four stars went to the Corona conferences 

where there was open discussion with nothing in writing, several of the 

generals persuaded the other commands that they should have one. “This is 

a benefit to you.” So that is how it really got started.

In 1970 and fiscal year 1971, too, what I was able to 

dig out was the retention rate for first-termers was 

the best it had been in over six or seven years. Do you 

recall that and why that was?

Well, I think the basic thing was that there was sort of a winding 

down of requirements at that time in the military, and there wasn’t that many 

opportunities in civilian life. I think it was the general idea that they wanted 

to hang onto what they had until they could find something better, plus 

the fact that we had a pretty good retention program instituted in the Air 

Force at that time to keep our quality people in. That’s the only thing I can 

attribute it to.

60
We talked a little bit about it, but in July 1971 the 

Air Force started the up-and-out system. Were you in 

favor of that?

At that time, yes. That was the only program that we could develop 

and implement at that time that would continue the flow of 

promotional opportunity.

How did the enlisted force take the up-and-out?

Well, the senior master sergeant that had 28 years in and had to 

leave, he wasn’t too happy. He would like to stay till 30 and the opportunity 

to make chief. I remember briefing some people over in England, and a 

senior master sergeant got up and talked to me. He said, “I have put in 

for retirement. I am going to retire when I get back to the States because 

there is no chance of my making chief and 28 years is coming up, and I 

am going to have to get out anyway.” I explained to him the purpose of 

it. He said, “Well, I don’t like it.” I said, “You think you are not going 

to have the opportunity to make chief. You will be eligible, but you have 

made the decision to retire. If you didn’t decide to retire, and wanted 

to take your chances to make chief, fine, but you made that decision, so 

don’t turn around and blame the Air Force just because you know that 

program exists.”

Have you changed your opinion of the up-and-out 

system since that time then?

Only to the extent that we should, which they are doing now, look 

carefully at the various grades and give them the opportunity to stay on 

if they are in a critical field that is needed. But you see, if you don’t have 

something that moves people on up, you have promotion stagnation, and 

when you have promotion stagnation, it usually develops in the staff, tech, 

and master area. Then you are not going to keep good, qualified, young 

people, and you have to have a certain percentage of the first-termers and 

the second-termers in relation to your career force in order to have an 

effective military.

What did you feel about the Senior NCO Academy?

Yes. I thought it was the greatest thing we ever did.

Is there any duplication there between that? I have 

read that it is kind of redundant. Each command has 

its NCO academy and then the Senior NCO Academy. 

No. I think you will find the Senior NCO Academy provides the 

broader scope of staff work, a broader understanding of the same things 

the officers are trained for. As we talked before, there were the limitations 

within the enlisted corps as opposed to the officer corps. I think this—in 

fact, I know it broadens the individual and helps them move into that area. I 

think it is excellent.

Any educational system has to be looked at, at least on a yearly basis 

to fit the education to the circumstances and the environment that plays a 

part in it. Everything has to be relative. You can’t be teaching something for 

five years when changes cause you to look at it and say, “Hey, this doesn’t 

apply today,” or if it does apply, this is not the method in which you apply it. 

So there is a constant review and study not only of the Senior NCO Academy 

but all the NCO academies.

Let’s see, the Senior NCO Academy, it seems to me, 

started in about 1972. In fact, the building I was in 

down there at Maxwell AFB, Alabama, one end of it was 

the original cadre for it, headed by a Colonel Robert K. 

McCutchen, as I recall.

Yes, Colonel McCutchen. Actually, the first class graduated in 

January 1972.

Did you help form it in any way?

Oh, yes, I was very much involved in the formulation of that. In 

fact, I talked with the people in education because I didn’t like the term 

Senior NCO Academy. I thought it should have a little bit more of a higher 

educational title, like Noncommissioned Officer University or University 

for Senior Noncommissioned Officers, something like that; however, the 

reason that was not pushed—even though many people in the Air Force and 

Department of Education wanted to have a little higher class title given—

there was a problem with the Congress, trying to get funding for it. The only 

way, actually, that funding was approved, the Air Force had to take some of 

the members of Congress who had questions about it and fly them to Gunter 

[AFB, Alabama] and actually give them a tour and explain to them why they 

were pushing for this.

They felt, and I agreed, that we couldn’t push it too much if we got 

the money and could get it going; that was important. Now, eventually down 

the road, I hope the term will be changed. I hope the title will be more fitting 

to the classification of the training that is given, but I’m delighted to see that 

we have it.

Were you involved in selecting your replacement in 

any way, shape, or form as Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force?

I was as advisor to the board during the selection process.

61
And the board was?

It was composed of a general officer and, I believe, five colonels 

with a broad representation, command wise, so they didn’t have any 

feeling that there was any prejudice in the selection process. I was merely 

sitting there as an advisor. I determined that I would not ask questions of 

the selectees even though I could. The president of the board said I could 

if I wished. I said I did not wish to because I did not want to give anyone 

of the selectees the impression that I was trying in any way to trip them 

up or cause them not to be considered as fully as any other. Oftentimes, 

unknowingly, you can ask a question that could, in their answer, be a little 

bit detrimental to their opportunity, so I didn’t.

The only thing I was asked after all met with the board, they asked 

me if I would like to make recommendations, and I said, “From knowing 

just about every one of the selectees and my observation and my dealings 

with them, I would be glad to put on a piece of paper, for the president’s 

view only, the three people I think would be most qualified to do the job,” 

and that was my only participation.

What was your greatest disappointment as Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force?

I think the greatest disappointment was that so many of the 

initiatives that the Air Force took and wanted to take were somewhat 

stymied because of the system. I was very pleased and proud of some of 

the initiatives that the Air Force was considering and discussing, but the 

system is such that it has to go through the secretary for approval; then it 

had to go to OSD [Office of the Secretary of Defense]. OSD sends it out 

to the other services to get their comments, and if they object, then it dies. 

It doesn’t go anywhere.

I also was disappointed in the fact that there was too much of the 

consideration that “we have to treat all of the services the same.” We have 

a different mission; we have a different management system; we have to 

have because of our mission requirements, and you can’t treat everything 

the same. This is one of the things that I have been very instrumental in 

talking with people on the Hill, especially the staff members. They were 

talking about the Guard and the Reserve technician program. The Army 

doesn’t want the technician program. They want active duty, and yet the 

technicians in our Air Force and our Air Force Reserve are providing 

stability and the continuity, which gives us a tremendous degree of 

readiness, because the weekenders can’t keep that up.

We mentioned the other day one of the questions I 

usually ask in interviews—if someone has a definition 

of leadership, or what you have found that seems to 

work quite well during your career in the Air Force, or 

what you found—is there such a thing as leadership? 

Can you train leaders?

Leadership has many variables. True leadership is the ability of 

an individual to recognize what motivates people and how to get the best 

out of people. Leadership does not necessarily mean knowing how and 

doing something yourself and expecting others to follow. Leadership is 

not something that is subjective in nature. It has to be objective. You can’t 

compare yourself with others; you can’t compare anything with anything 

else. You have to know the situation, and you have to be able to analyze the 

situation, understand it to the point that you can take advantage of it and not 

let that situation be an obstacle in your leadership ability.

It’s like discipline. The degree of discipline is a judgment factor. 

Leadership is the same way. You can take a class of students in any school, 

and you will find that perhaps you will get to a few of them in your teaching 

methods. But the real art of teaching is being able to recognize the problem 

with the others that you are not getting to, and to be able to adjust your 

teaching methods or system or whatever is necessary in order to bring them 

into the same environment with this other group.

It is a hell of a challenge. Man is the most complex mechanism 

in the world.

62
63
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Richard D. Kisling

October 1, 1971 - September 30, 1973

Richard D. Kisling grew up as 

a farmer’s son in western Iowa. Born on 

22 November 1923, he grew used to 

early risings, often milking the cows and 

finishing other chores before heading 

to school for the day. He was nine when 

the Depression began taking a toll on his 

family. With 10 children to clothe and 

feed, there was little money to go around. 

Overalls and a pair of new shoes become 

luxury items.

Like many men of his era, Kisling 

was drafted into the Army in July 1944, 

just one month after the Allies landed in 

Europe. A year later he found himself 

in Germany negotiating the repatriation 

of displaced persons with the Soviet 

Union. He left the Army in 1946, but 

quickly rejoined the Army Air Forces in 

1947 just before it officially became the 

US Air Force.

For the next 26 years, Kisling 

served in a wide variety of roles. As 

a young enlisted Airman he was a 

personnelist, then became a first 

sergeant and later a recruiter. He became 

the third Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force (CMSAF) on 1 October 

1971, selected by Gen John D. Ryan. 

During his tenure he led the opening of 

the Senior Noncommissioned Officer 

Academy (SNCOA) and tackled issues 

such as housing and pay. He passed away 

on 3 November 1985, just shy of his 

62nd birthday.

The Air Force Historical 

Research Center interviewed Kisling 

multiple times from 1982 to 1984. 

During the interviews, Kisling talked 

about his experience in Germany 

following the end of World War II, the 

development of the SNCOA, and the roll 

high year tenure played in retention and 

promotion. The complete interviews can 

be accessed on the Air University Library 

online research center.1 

Portions of the interview are 

printed below. The order of some of the 

questions and answers has been adjusted 

to depict a chronological reflection on 

the life and career of Richard D. Kisling.

64
Your biography shows you were born in November 

1923, in Iowa. Did you have this traditional Iowa farm 

life of the 1920s there? 

Absolutely. We were farming with horses. We would get up early. 

My dad would, I suppose, get up 3:45 each morning, the year round, 

and about five o’clock he would make sure we were awake. My younger 

brother—two years younger than I am—and I would get up, and we would 

help milk the cows and do the chores before we went to school. When we 

got home from school in the evening, we had just the same old reverse.

Then we would go back to doing the chores. I remember one of 

the things I fought with my dad about was in the middle of the winter, 

the fact that we were going out after the evening meal and milking our 

cows. He thought the cows should be milked on a regular basis——at five 

o’clock in the morning and seven o’clock at night, but we would never 

change those. We finally convinced him, I think about 1938 or 1939, 

that we could do our outside work before we came in out of that real 

tough weather. 

What about the Depression? Did that really hit 

your family pretty hard?

Very much so. I guess I really start remembering it about 1932, 

probably. I remember my dad was raising quite a few hogs, not many 

cattle. We always had a lot of milk cows, but we didn’t have too many beef 

cattle. He would ship hogs to market, and they wouldn’t even pay for the 

trucking. Corn was selling for two or three cents a bushel. There was no 

money. Shortly after that the drought started, and that made things worse. 

I guess we had probably about five years that were very, very depressed. 

We were lucky to get a pair of overalls in the fall and a pair of new shoes at 

the start of the school year. There wasn’t money for anything. I remember 

we didn’t even have a radio until about 1936. I lost my mother in 1934, 

which really complicated things for my father and for all of us, that 

large family.

You graduated from high school, when then?

In 1941. I went in the service in July 1944.

How did you finally get into the service then? 

When they changed my draft classification. I went down to Fort 

Crook, Nebraska——now Offutt AFB——and took my pre-induction 

physical. I think it was less than a month that I had notice to report. I 

went up to Fort Snelling and processed through Fort Snelling, up at 

Minneapolis–Saint Paul [Minnesota]. At that time, I had hopes of getting 

into the Navy or to the Army Air Corps. They went down the line, “We’ll 

take you and you and you,” and it just happened to be my lucky day, I 

guess, that I got into the infantry. (laughter)

 

In infantry training, by this time they had invaded 

Europe and the war was drawing to a close. Did you 

guys think you were going to get in on it by this time?

We were kind of hoping that maybe the war would end, but no 

one seemed to think that in the infantry training business. They were dead 

serious about what they were teaching us.

Along about the end of the basic training, they started trying to get 

volunteers to go to paratroops. We talked about it a great deal, and finally 

I decided I would go. They were paying a lot of money to be a paratrooper. 

Our pay was $50 a month in those days. We were lucky. I got in when they 

were paying some money——$50 a month, and you got a whole $50 a month 

extra if you were airborne. The big clincher was . . . I guess they talked us 

into volunteering through a little bit of coercion. We could have a threeday pass if we would volunteer. Quite a sizable group of us from around the 

Sioux City [Iowa] area volunteered and went to trooper training down at 

Fort Benning [Georgia]. Lucky for me, I think, I had a bad appendix. I didn’t 

know it, but I couldn’t take the long runs. My side was really bothering me, 

so I was eliminated out of trooper training.

At this time now, they were moving people over to Europe because 

of the Battle of the Bulge. They were flying people over. The first time they 

had flown anyone over. A guy by the name of Emms from Salt Lake City 

[Utah] washed out at the same time. We were told we were going to be on 

our way to Europe, and somehow they got us on the wrong orders, and they 

sent us up to Camp Gordon, Georgia. (laughter)

We never did figure out how we got to Camp Gordon. We were 

sent to an infantry training company up there. The mission of this training 

company was giving them four or five weeks training to the people that they 

were pulling out of the Army Air Corps. At that time they were pulling a 

lot of people out of the Army Air Corps to train as filler replacements and 

ship them overseas. I think the second or third day we were there, Emms 

and I were down at Regimental Personnel, trying to explain to them that 

we shouldn’t be there, that we were supposed to be on our way to Europe, 

and no way. We stayed there a couple of months and, finally, they decided 

it was wrong. In the meantime, I had tried a little bit of everything, doing a 

lot of cooking. I volunteered to be in there; I was pulling a lot of KP and I 

volunteered to work as a cook. But it took them a couple of months to get 

this straightened out and get us on our way overseas. It was along in the 

spring, then, of 1945 before I ever got overseas.

65
Did you fly over to Europe? 

No. We went up to——what is the Army post just north of 

Baltimore [Maryland]? Fort Meade [Fort George G. Meade]. We went to 

Fort Meade, and they had us in a holding station there, in the processing 

station, for about a month. It took a long time. Everything was manual. It 

took about a month to get us processed, and then they sent us by troop 

train up to Camp Myles Standish, by Boston [Massachusetts], and we 

boarded the SS Mariposa. The Mariposa was an old luxury liner that had 

been commandeered. We set out, without an escort——of course the war 

was still on, but they were changing course every three minutes. This was 

good enough, apparently, at that part of the war that we weren’t really in 

danger, although we were under very strict blackouts all the time.

You got there in late April or early May.

About late April.

The war ended when, 7 May?

I think 7 May, something like that.

Did you ever hear a shot fired in anger then? 

Yes, we did. In riding this troop train up through France, there 

were some pockets that had been cut off in the fast movement through 

France, through the northern part of France, and there were still some 

battles going on. But personally, I never fired a shot, and I was lucky that I 

wasn’t one of those that was turned right around and sent to the Pacific; the 

fact that I was married gave me some points. I guess that is one advantage.

What was Germany like immediately after 

the war here?

Germany was terrible. The buildings were all devastated; there 

was nothing in the shops—very little food. Once in a while you could find 

a black-market restaurant that was in business. Even the beer wasn’t good 

because it wasn’t aging.

When we moved up south of Kassel [Germany] for occupation, 

we picked up a lot of new people. When we first moved up, we went into 

a little town of Bad Wildungen, set up our headquarters in an old spa 

hotel. This is in the area of Germany where they have all the baths. So we 

occupied one of the biggest hotels there, really a nice place. It hadn’t been 

shelled. We were in there about three days and Corps came along. They 

said, “Okay, division, you have got to get out. We are going to take this 

over. This has been our plan.” So we had to move out to a very small town 

about three or four kilometers from there.

Was the Army supposed to be ferreting out Nazis? 

Yes. We had several missions. We had CIO [counterintelligence 

office] and CIC [counterintelligence corps] that were reporting to us, and 

our division was picked to be the division to establish the repatriation of 

the displaced persons. My boss, Colonel Spryer——and this would have been 

late in 1945, probably around September or October 1945—had several 

meetings with the Russians, and they established the parameters for the 

exchange of the DP [displaced persons] across this zone up there. It never 

worked out right. I remember our first exchange—first I should tell you, his 

first meeting with the Russians, Spryer came back, and he had what looked 

like an old milk carton that they used to carry the bottles in filled up with 

bottles of vodka, real Russian vodka. He had taken over whiskey, and they 

had given him Russian vodka. That was our first taste of vodka. That, with 

the weak beer, made a pretty good drink. (laughter)

When we got ready for the repatriation, we found that we just could 

not trust them. We were supposed to exchange, say, 200 people a day. We 

would process our 200 people, and we would end up getting 400 or 500 or 

600 people, and they would say, “They are people that you sent over to us 

that you shouldn’t have sent.” So the repatriation really never worked out.

Who were you repatriating?

These were displaced persons who were living in the DP camps. We 

had a lot of DP camps. I know in the city of Salzburg there was an area, and 

there must have been a couple thousand people in this DP camp.

Were you anxious to get home at this time?

Yes, I was anxious to get home. I thought, “Well, I will get back, 

and I will get to my old job in the exchange. Then I will see if I am going to 

become a farmer.” And I thought, maybe, I would go back to school.

We were all supposed to step right back into the positions we had 

before—the same place. I found out that wasn’t true either. A guy that I got 

to be a good friend with, who was probably about the same position in the 

company when he had gone into the service a short time before—three or 

four months before I had started there—came back, and he expected to step 

in at his level, plus other people had been hired expecting to stay at their 

levels. So it just wasn’t that good.

When did you actually get out of the Army then, in 1946?

I got out the first time in 1946. I went back in 1946 and then got 

out in 1947 and into the Army Air Forces.

66
Did this seem like the career you wanted to pursue?

Yes, this seemed like the career I wanted to pursue, but after I had 

met the girl I was going to marry, my second wife, and we got married, I 

decided what we ought to do was go overseas. There were a lot of good 

overseas places.

I had a friend [W02 John Uram] who had become a warrant 

officer, a master sergeant who had become a warrant officer. He was 

working up at the personnel processing squadron in New York. I had 

talked to Mr. Uram, and he said, “If you get up here, I’ll make sure you 

get to Europe.” So I volunteered for the European theater. In those days 

you couldn’t volunteer for a specific place; you volunteered for a theater. 

I volunteered for the European theater. I thought I had it all greased with 

this warrant officer. I got up to the processing station up in New York, and 

Uram had retired. So suddenly I found myself going to Wheelus Field, 

Libya, which turned out to be a good assignment for me. I went in there 

as a staff sergeant, and of course, shortly after that the Korean War broke 

out, and I was promoted rather quickly to tech sergeant and then to master 

sergeant. I was there for about six or seven months as the chief clerk in the 

squadron, and then I moved up to become the first sergeant.

What squadron was this?

1261st Air Transport Squadron. That just turned out to be a very, 

very good assignment for me. I had no idea when I went in there I would 

ever want to be a first sergeant. I got into the job a little bit under pressure. 

We had a Mexican who was our first sergeant. We got a new squadron 

commander from New Mexico, and he did not like Mexicans.

Unfortunately, Sergeant Bello was not the world’s greatest first 

sergeant. I think about the second week this major, at the time, was 

there—he was very upset over the way Sergeant Bello was handling leaves 

for our people that were taking their wives or their families with them to 

Europe. At that time, you could take one leave a year to the continent from 

Tripoli. They flew you up and back. Some guy and his wife had planned to 

go and Bello had not processed the leave paperwork in time. It was there 

in his inbox. He could never explain to the old man how he processed 

these things. No one else could ever figure it out anyway. (laughter)

He called me in about a day after he had really gotten in trouble 

with the ops officer, because it was the ops NCO that was going up. He 

called me in, and he said, “Okay, tomorrow morning you are the first 

sergeant.” I looked at him. He said, “You are a tech sergeant. You are 

now the first sergeant. If you can do the job, you are a master. If not, I am 

going to bust your ass to staff sergeant.” I thought, “What the hell did I 

get into with this guy?” But it worked out fine. I was able to hack it. So I 

got into the first sergeant business.

How were the enlisted people you were working with 

in these days? Were they mostly World War II vets that 

had stayed in?

Most of them were World War II vets. We were starting to get a few 

young people but not too many yet. In this air transport squadron, we had a 

lot of old maintenance people, a lot of old radio operators, kind of like the 

Jake Schuffert. You know, Jake was a radio operator. The cartoonist, the 

guy who draws “No Sweat.”2

When the Korean War broke out, were you ever 

scheduled to go to the Far East at all?

Our outfit was alerted to go to the Far East, and we went so far 

as packing footlockers full. We had our typewriters and office supplies 

and everything packed into footlockers because we were sure we were 

going to be moving. Then something happened, and they decided we 

didn’t need to go, but we were sure we would have to be over there in the 

transport business.

When you went into the Air Force, was there quite 

a bit of difference in attitude between the Army 

and the Air Force?

When I moved into the barracks at Chanute Field [Illinois], I 

couldn’t believe it. I moved into this open bay—of course they were all open 

bays then. But here were master sergeants, staff sergeants, tech sergeants, 

two stripers, and three stripers, and they were all calling each other by their 

first name, and they were saying, “We are going to go get a beer. We will 

go out someplace and do this,” whatever they were going to do. They were 

talking about their work. It was all on a first-name basis. This was really 

a shock to me, because in the Army, at that time, you certainly didn’t call 

anyone of senior rank by their first name. There was no association with 

them, and you never spoke to one of those unless it was in the line of duty as 

a question unless they spoke to you first. I couldn’t believe this. I thought, 

“My gosh, what a change!” I thought they were almost like civilians.

I remember in those days some of the people that were on flying 

status would talk about their officers, “Pete this” and “Pete that,” whatever 

it might be. I couldn’t understand this. Then I found out a lot of the crew 

members called each other by their first names. This was going on even in 

World War II, I understand. It was acceptable. They were flyers, and they all 

considered themselves flyers, so they weren’t rank conscious about that. I 

guess that is when I first started developing some officer friendships, about 

this time. I saw a lot of this, that officers would invite enlisted people to 

their homes or to go someplace, and it was acceptable. No one seemed to be 

concerned about it.

67
When you got this job as first sergeant then, 

how did it work out?

It worked out fine. In those days all of the records were in the 

squadron. All of the personnel was done in the squadron. As chief clerk 

in the squadron, I attribute my fact to be able to handle this job and do 

it on the training I received from . . . my couple of years at Fourth Air 

Force. I didn’t know anything about the officer system, but I learned 

it very quickly.

[After a few years of it], I got to thinking maybe I should do 

something else, so I put in an application for the Recruiting Service. 

I went down to Abilene, Texas, for my interview. I was waiting in the 

office for the interview—at that time you had to be interviewed by a local 

recruiting station commander and several other people—and a guy came 

out and said, “You are going to have to wait a little bit. The deputy for air 

from the Southwestern Recruiting District is in here, and you will have to 

wait until he finishes with the commander. Then he will see if he can see 

you. If not, you will have to stay another day.”

About one and a half hours later, the door opened and sitting 

behind the desk was Col [Philip J.] John who had been the deputy base 

commander over Wheelus Field in Tripoli. He jumped up over that 

desk and greeted me like a long-lost friend and wanted to know what I 

was doing. I told him, and I told him what I was there for. He said, “How 

soon are you prepared to move?” I said, “Right away.” Ten days later I 

was on my way to the Southwestern Recruiting District down at Fort Sam 

[Houston, Texas]. I got down there just in time for Air Force to make a 

decision to split from the Army. I think I got there in about February, 

and in about May we moved over to Lackland [AFB, Texas] to set up the 

recruiting school and the 3504th Recruiting Group.

When you say “split from the Army,” what do you mean?

The recruiting. At that time our recruiting was joint with the 

Army. Army and Air Force recruiting was all together. We were sharing 

the same stations and had the same Southwestern District commander; he 

was an Army colonel.

The Air Force was always the deputy; it could never be the 

commander under that thing. We were having all kinds of problems in 

the recruiting business. I had no idea about it until I got there. The Army 

was trying to syphon off the best they could, and of course, they weren’t 

getting the best people, but they were really putting the pressure on the 

recruiters to meet the Army quota. It was more important for the Army 

to meet their quota than it was to meet the Air Force quota. So it was a 

tremendous opportunity to do something else. I thought I was going 

down there as a recruiter, but I found as soon as I got there that [Colonel] 

John intended that I work directly for him. I couldn’t do it while we were in 

Southwestern Recruiting District, but when we moved, then I became his 

group sergeant major.

Did the Air Force ever take any draftees after 

World War II? Do you recall?

Only a few, and they weren’t people that were drafted per se. They 

were people who failed to meet their Reserve obligations. They were called 

up, and probably only a handful of these.

And it was a four-year commitment for the new 

recruit in those days?

I think so. That has vacillated somewhat, but I think it has been 

primarily a three-year or four-year.

Was the type of persons the Air Force was recruiting 

a pretty good individual in these days?

Yes. Far superior to what they were getting in the other services, by 

and large. Across the board, we were getting good quality.

You were there for just a little over two years.

That’s right.

Was two years the normal tour in those days?

No. I was getting very hot to be tapped for overseas, so I decided I 

would volunteer to go where I wanted to go before I was picked to go. So I 

decided I wanted to go to Europe and had a chance. By this time you could 

volunteer for Europe and be reasonably assured you weren’t going to go to 

the Mediterranean or Turkey or someplace.

You went to this 48th Tactical Fighter Wing.3 This was 

the first combat unit you had been in in the Air Force. 

Was there quite a bit of difference now?

There was a great difference. When I got to the 48th Tac Fighter 

Wing, our wing commander was [Lt Gen Albert P.] Clark. A. P. Clark was 

just shortly promoted to general, shortly after I got there. “Big Red” went 

on to become the commandant of the Air Force Academy.

I see on your biography, they use the term “base 

personnel, sergeant major.” The Air Force didn’t 

have sergeant majors, did they?

Yes. We called them sergeant majors. It wasn’t a grade; it was a title.

Was the title even official, though?

Yes.

68
I mean, on your orders it would read sergeant major?

Yes. Base personnel, sergeant major. When I got there, I was the 

personnel sergeant major . . . of the air base group. Then just a few weeks 

after I was there, we consolidated. We took the personnel records out of 

the groups. By this time, we had moved the personnel records from the 

squadrons to the groups, and then we pulled them from the groups and 

consolidated all of them.

In this consolidation, did you lose 

anything personally?

No, I gained really, because I had a small personnel shop under 

the air base group, but when we placed everyone into the group, then I 

became the base personnel sergeant major.

(Before we move forward . . . ), 

you were in the military when it was integrated.

This happened in 1949 if you remember. I was at Hamilton Field 

[California] at the time, and I should talk to you about that.

Our squadron was right across—not an active running stream but 

a dry bed, California-type stream. There was a walkover between us and 

two barracks where the black enlisted personnel were housed at Hamilton. 

None of us in the immediate area that I was working in had ever worked 

with any black personnel. We would see them around the base, but we had 

no contact with them. When the desegregation happened, we picked up, 

oh, maybe a dozen in Headquarters, Fourth Air Force, and they went to 

great lengths to try to move them into separate areas in the barracks.

Rather than to have all of a sudden one barracks.

Rather than to have them all in one barracks. Little by little you 

could see that they tried to move back together again.

On their own.

Yes. I found this to be a problem, then, in the squadrons I had 

as first sergeant to really work this problem of keeping them separated, 

because there was a tendency to move together. A lot of first sergeants 

believed, “Well, if we have desegregation, we are going to have it, but 

in my outfit they are going to be in one area.” They were really poorly 

treated. Although we had desegregation, they were really poorly treated.

On a personal or an official basis?

I would say more on a personal basis. There was a lot of official 

treatment that really was a facade. When a person would walk out of a 

room, there would be language and things said that should have never 

been said. So I think it was one of the toughest adjustments—and it was 

tougher for the black than it was for the white.

How did you feel about it personally, 

about integrating the Air Force?

I thought it was a good idea. I could not understand why, if they 

were going to fight, they shouldn’t be entitled to the same things that I was. 

I had been through the South, and I found it very degrading to walk into a 

place and see a nice water fountain where you could get a drink and then see 

a sign that said, “Colored Only.” It was a pitiful-looking sight. I found that 

very hard to accept. Coming from the Midwest, the only black people I had 

ever seen before were people who worked in the packing house and doing 

those lower paying jobs in Sioux City. They lived in a very poor, run-down 

section of town on the west side.

After World War II there was this Doolittle Board—

I don’t know if that was the correct name of it. 

But they took away much from the NCOs’ power to 

discipline troops and to command the troops. In 

other words, a lot of things that, during World War 

II and before, would have been accomplished by the 

first sergeant, now you had lieutenant colonels. 

Did you ever see the Air Force trying to give more 

responsibility back to NCOs as time progressed, or was 

it still a case of everything moving to—

Everything was moving to the officers until this time in 1975–76 

time frame. What had happened, and I think I can best illustrate it by stating 

that when the Air Force started out in 1947, we had very, very few nonflying 

officers in the line of the Air Force. Almost all of our commissioned officers 

in the Air Force were pilots or navigators. While these people were assigned 

duties as squadron adjutant or personnel officer or whatever may be, their 

real mission in life was to fly. So what happened was that the NCO at that time 

was an NCOIC [noncommissioned officer in charge]. He was responsible 

for everything, and he ran the office most of the time. I remember even in 

the early 1950s, when I started being a first sergeant, many times I wouldn’t 

see my squadron commander until 9:30 or 10 o’clock. He would come by 

to sign the morning report. He would probably be going off on a flight, and 

there was no doubt that the first sergeant was really running the day-today administrative operation of the squadron, and it was true in all of the 

sections. It was in the early 1950s, really, that we started bringing in more 

officers who were not flying officers and started to give these people special 

jobs—administrative officers, personnel officers, supply officers, and so 

forth, not additional duty.

69
We still had our warrant officer program at that time, but the 

warrant officers were never really recognized as being the man in charge. 

There was always that stigma that they were neither commissioned nor 

noncommissioned, neither fish nor fowl, and they just were never really 

well accepted in the total Air Force, although you will find general officers 

and you will find senior enlisted people that would tell you that warrant 

officers did a hell of a good job. Looking back, we did not take, really, our 

best qualified people to move them into the warrant officer grades. We 

didn’t take all master sergeants, for example. And if the system is working 

correctly, your best people would have been your master sergeants back 

in those days. We took a lot of tech sergeants to move into the warrant 

officer field. Although they were good technicians, they too did not have 

any real management training.

Was not that the theory, though, of the warrant 

officer, that he was more the technician?

Yes, and we had some good technicians.

He wasn’t supposed to command troops.

He wasn’t supposed to command troops, but I would think he 

would be expected to be more of a leader along with that, although he was 

not in command of troops.

When did the Air Force do away with the 

warrant officer?

We just retired our last one two years ago, but we stopped 

selecting warrant officers in the mid to late 1950s.4

(Going back to the early sixties), what was the 

retention rate in the Air Force? 

It was fair, but we were getting more and more into the proficiency 

pay business, and that really was not helping us. That was starting to split 

the real esprit in some of the units because some people got it. We never, 

for example, paid our aircraft maintenance people proficiency pay at this 

time, because they said, “There are too many. We can’t afford to pay it.”

Did you have a lot of people bailing out of the Air 

Force Specialty Code (AFSC) or system they were in, 

trying to get into these—

We had a large number of people who were trying to be crosstrained and get into something where they would get proficiency pay. 

Many times a field would be open more for promotions because it was 

a relatively new field, and they would try to get into it. By the time they 

moved, the field had closed up.

On this proficiency pay, did they have skill testing 

in effect on that? 

Yes. We had boards set up to check and see if they were proficient, 

but primarily you would have a technical representative on the board and 

you would have three or four other people to comprise the board—one of 

them being the personnel officer. Many times these people were working 

with classified materials that they could not discuss, so you had to leave it up 

to the technical advisor to say whether you were technical competent or not. 

It was a weird system.

You mentioned you had thought about staying in your 

20 and getting out. What had changed your mind 

on this idea?

By this time, I had decided that—I had looked around a great deal at 

what was going on in the civilian job world, and it wasn’t that great. A lot of 

the reported salaries were good, but here again, with no formal education, 

I just couldn’t step out into a good job. By this time now with the two girls, 

I was beginning to think I had better get serious about trying to build 

something so we could educate these girls, so they wouldn’t have to start out 

at the bottom of the rung like their dad had. My wife felt very strongly about 

it, too, that we ought to be able to have some economic stability. About this 

time the job market was really not too good on the outside anyway.

There was a little recession there.

Yes. So as a chief master sergeant, I was fairly comfortable. There 

was no problem. There were very few chiefs at that time, and you were 

guaranteed you would get quarters, so I decided I was going to stay.

Then you got this assignment to Frankfurt, Germany.

I was sitting in my office one day, and I was thinking about where I 

would like to go. My wife and I had talked about it. I suddenly recalled a man 

that I had gotten to know by reputation that was in the Security Service. This 

guy was known as the greatest manipulator of assignments in the Air Force. 

So I called Hugh T. Smith, who was also a chief master sergeant, and talked 

to him. He really didn’t remember me. I had been stationed at the recruiting 

group in Lackland when he was in Security Service down the hill at Kelly 

[Field AFB, Texas]. But he said he would like to help me. He said, “We 

do have several assignments. We can put you in Turkey; we can put you 

in Bremerhaven, Germany; we can put you in Frankfurt, Germany, or we 

can put you in Alaska. How about you calling me back and letting me know 

which one of these jobs you would like to have?” I called him back the next 

day, and I said, “I really thought about it, and I don’t want to go to Turkey, 

although it looks pretty good. The brochures looked very good to us. I know 

I don’t want to go to Alaska. I would like to go to Frankfurt, Germany.” He 

said, “Frankfurt happens to be our region headquarters.”

70
Region headquarters and intermediate headquarters. Since I had 

no experience in that command, it really would be better for me to start at 

a lower echelon. He wanted me to really think about it. He tried to talk me 

into going to Elmendorf [AFB], Alaska. I finally called him back and said 

no. The only thing I would take would be Frankfurt, Germany. Within 

about 10 days, we had our orders and were on our way overseas.

You were over there four years. Then I notice you 

came back to this title of noncommissioned officer in 

charge, Programs’ and Requirements Division, Deputy 

Chief of Staff, Personnel, Headquarters US Air Force 

Security Service. Boy that was a good job title.

It was a good title, better than the job. We came back. There was 

really no choice of getting out of the organization, and we even wanted to 

go to San Antonio [Texas]. We had had one tour before in San Antonio 

and liked it. We thought it was the logical place to go. We came back and 

went into the personnel programming shop.

The first Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force was 

picked in 1967. Had you paid much attention to this?

Yes, from the day that I saw the first announcement in the Air 

Force Times, I was vitally interested in the program. I remember coming 

home after reading that Air Force Times and saying, “That’s the job I 

really would like to have.” I tried to follow [CMSAF] Paul Airey as well as 

I could. Basically, it was what I read in the Air Force Times, but little did 

I realize at the time that I was going to have an opportunity to really start 

working towards it.

Were you eligible to be plugged in on that 

first selection?

On that first go, I was not. I did not have enough service. It was on 

the second go—when [CMSAF] Don Harlow—that I had enough service.

You say you followed this procedure. Had you ever 

gotten together with other NCOs as your level, at 

this time or before this, talking about such a position 

or billet in the Air Force?

I recall years and years ago that a lot of us had discussed it because 

the Marine Corps had always had a sergeant major.

We had always discussed that we felt we ought to have someone up 

there; we ought to have a sergeant major of the Air Force, and we could not 

understand why we did not have one. The Marine Corps had one. There was 

not a great deal of publicity but enough to let the world know that they had 

one. So when this announcement was made in the Air Force Times that they 

were going to have the position and finally when they selected Paul Airey, 

there was considerable discussion at NCO gatherings.

In the European Security Region, we had a strong NCO group 

that got together every month, not only for fun and games but we got 

together to talk about serious business and what we could. When I got back 

to headquarters, I found out that this was an offspring of their brainchild 

because they had a highly structured senior NCO council that got together. 

This included all of the top three—all the 7s, 8s, and 9s. They would get 

together once a month. They would have guest speakers. They had a 

sergeant major of Security Service, primarily administrator, but he did 

have a rapport with the commander of Security Service. He would run the 

meeting and bring us up to date on the different things that were going on in 

the command. So I felt that command was one that was really ready for it.

I was going to ask you then. Was there not in 

existence, in a very ad hoc, unofficial way, a lot 

of command chiefs? In other words, didn’t most 

commands at this point have kind of chief senior 

advisors in an unofficial capacity?

Yes, they did.

This was kind of unofficial, wasn’t it?

It was sort of unofficial. They called them their sergeant majors. At 

the time Paul Airey was selected, and I was able to go back and recount all of 

this because of the correspondence I read later on, there were several major 

air commanders that came to the chief of staff when they decided to go with 

this position with their personal recommendations. “Here is my guy, and 

he is the guy that you should select. He would make an ideal man for you.” 

There were numerous of these letters that I found in the file. People had 

these people working as sergeant majors.

71
72
73
In 1966 the first-term reenlistment rate was the 

lowest it had been in 12 years. Do you recall 

that at all?

I recall that very vividly. I recall when Paul Airey moved into office 

in 1967, one of the first things he set up was a program that every top 

three should get a junior Airman to reenlist.

There is a name for it . . .

I forget the name of the program, but that program was worked 

and worked well. It was milked until the old cow ran dry, but there was 

some misinterpretation in that program, and there was a feeling that we 

were only concerned with the top three grades and the lower three. The 

midrange NCOs, then, were left out of the picture. The right way to work 

that was to really work through the chain of command and work through 

those midrange NCOs to motivate those people to enlist, but because of 

the way the program was articulated, there was a lot of misunderstanding 

about that program.

(The) idea of the NCOs encouraging first-termers 

to reenlist was called the “Top Three Program.”

Every top three was supposed to get one, and a lot of people 

interpreted that not only to get him, but you took him home with you; you 

took him to lunch and you did all of these things to really motivate him. 

Well you (know) what happens. Here are all of the top NCOs, and they are 

dragging all of these young troops around, and the midrange NCOs are 

saying, “What the hell is going on? He is getting favoritism and all those 

things.” I don’t think that was Paul Airey’s intent at all, but that came out as 

his program, and if anyone has to bear the brunt of it being a bad program, 

well, Paul Airey has to suffer that because everyone referred to it as 

Airey’s program.

Was it successful in any sense? I get the impression it 

was not very successful.

I don’t think it was too successful. Although we kept some firsttermers we might have lost, we demotivated a lot of midrange NCOs and 

lost some midrange NCOs.

Promotion boards disappeared for the enlisted grades 

in 1969. Did you ever get involved in an input of (how) 

they should go or they shouldn’t go or your impression 

of how they worked?

No. I didn’t get involved at that time with it because we didn’t happen 

to be at a level where we had anything to say. We supported the initiation 

of the WAPS [Weighted Airman Promotion System] program. We thought 

that would be a good program particularly for the people of that command. 

I had been sitting on promotion boards, it seemed like all my life—but for a 

long, long time. On the command board, it really boiled down to looking for 

demotivators for promotion when you reviewed the records because they 

were so good. Most of us would devise a formula—so many points for this 

and so many points for that—so we could go through these records and try to 

come up with a reasonable evaluation.

How honest were they in your mind, these 

promotion boards?

I think by this time the promotions boards we were having were 

quite honest, because they were at a level above where you knew most of 

the people individually. You had to know some individually. If you take it 

back to the old boards that we used to have at the bases years ago, I would 

like to think that some of us were good at our jobs that got selected, but 

a lot of it was based on who you knew and how well your reputation was. 

If you established a good reputation on that base, you had a good chance 

of being promoted. But you could have been the best guy at Minot AFB, 

North Dakota, and go to Wheelus Field, Tripoli, and until you established 

yourself on Wheelus, you didn’t stand a chance of being promoted. So you 

were really starting at the bottom every time you made a move.

We would look at records and have good recommendations in 

the records and couldn’t do anything with them because, well, “He hasn’t 

been on the base long enough. I just don’t know how well he is really going 

to do. I know this is what the colonel said at Minot, but he has to be here 

at Chaumont a little bit longer before we can promote him.” That was 

a lot of it.

Then, of course, the rumors on a base. Bases that were fairly small 

bases, everyone knew what everyone else was doing, or they thought they 

knew what everyone else was doing. So promotion boards were really quite 

vicious in a way. I know I would have been selected a board earlier for 

master sergeant when I was at Wheelus Field except they had an enlisted 

man serving on the board, and they asked this enlisted man who he would 

promote, and he said, “I think you ought to promote him.” “Is he a good 

friend of yours?” “Yes. We happen to be friends.” “Okay, we will take this 

other guy.” (laughter) I know that for a fact.

74
In 1968 you had the SKT [specialty knowledge test], 

promotion fitness exams [PFE], supervisor’s exam. 

These were all new things at that point. You were 

down at Kelly. Was there a lot of confusion as to 

how these things were going to be used initially?

I think people were a little bit resistant to accept the fact that they 

had to have two tests. They had a PFE test, and then they had an SKT test, 

and why did they have to have all of this?

In this testing, in any sense did you hear this 

complaint, “Well, hell, I can go out and fix this F-4. 

But when you test me on paper—

We have always had that. Of course the book answer is that we can 

teach people to take tests. I think we can. If they have the proper aptitudes 

to begin with, we can teach them how to test.

You then found yourself in a 

how-to-take-tests situation?

Right. You had to convince these people that we can—there was a 

waiver provision, too. You could get a waiver for these.

How did that work?

You could go before a board, and they could agree to waive your 

tests. We had several who tried to get waiver after waiver after waiver 

rather than apply themselves and learn how to study and then learn how to 

take tests.

Did you find the situation that tests takers were 

getting the promotions rather than the doers?

That was a perception for a lot of people. That was a perception of 

the doers that the test takers get all the promotions. But I think all in all, 

when it was all said and done, it pretty well equals out. The people who are 

the doers could be better if they would take the time to read or learn how 

to read. I think most of it was reading and comprehension to begin with, 

because if they could read and comprehend, then they could also take the 

tests. They would know how to answer. And I guess we still have a little 

of this fight going on. We still have some people saying, “Well, we have a 

percentage of people who still can’t take tests.” I suppose that is so, but it 

is because they have never really had to test. They have been able to get by.

Was there an APR [Airman Performance Report] 

inflation? Did this happen as things went on?

Yes. Initially, when we started the Airman Performance Report, we 

had controlled ratings, not as hard and fast controlled as we had under the 

officers a few years ago, but at the top of the form, it gave you a breakout. 

So many people out of—I can’t remember the numeric thing—but a certain 

percentage of them, one could be exceptionally well, and one had to be on 

the other end. Then it broke down so the average would be in the middle. 

For a while reports sort of stayed that way, but it wasn’t long until people 

began to say the reason they didn’t get promoted was because they didn’t 

have a high enough performance report, so they started pushing it over and 

pushing it over, and the next thing we knew, everyone was firewalled on the 

right-hand side. I don’t think that was absolutely necessary for a promotion. 

I think I was fortunate that I had some honest raters who did not rate me 

completely over the right hand in everything.

An expression in the report: How am I to improve myself? I think 

that helped me. It never slowed me down from any promotions. I was one of 

the real fortunate. I was promoted the first go on the E-8 and the first go on 

the E-9. I think we would still have people that would be promoted that way, 

particularly the top grades now that we have the WAPS and we also have the 

board that takes a look, too. I think the board can adjust those things.

In the 1970s there began to be talk now of doing away 

with the draft and getting to an all-volunteer force. 

Did that come down to your level yet at all?

Yes.

How did you feel about that? 

I did not feel we should go for an all-volunteer force because I 

thought it would be too expensive, and we wouldn’t get a good cross section, 

although, the Air Force had not drafted people. We got a good cross section 

because people were motivated to come into the Air Force rather than wait 

to be drafted by the Army. I felt we would not get the good cross section of 

the people, and it would become too expensive, I feel that we are right in 

that situation today.

75
In 1971 a study began of off-base housing or living 

for unmarried (enlisted members). What was this in 

response to? Why was this now thought of?

We had a shortage of quarters, to begin with, and we were trying 

to upgrade the living conditions for our people. It was a matter of deciding 

how we would work it; who would be entitled and who would not be. The 

decision was that we would do it by rank, [starting with] the senior person. 

We found out it was not always working that way because we would have 

people that did not want to live on base, but because of the quarters 

availability when they came in, they would be assigned [quarters on base]. 

And we had some commanders who were not asking them, when they 

had an overage again, if they wanted to move off. Then vice versa, we had 

some that were living off, and they would be told they had to move back on 

because—we treated people a little bit unfairly. One place they would have 

to live off base because there were no quarters. They would have to buy 

furniture. They would get to the next place, and they would have to live on 

base. It was not only disturbing, but it was also financially difficult.

There were some people that felt they couldn’t be responsible, 

couldn’t be trusted. What are they going to be doing with all of this spare 

time off? We are not going to be monitoring them.

We discussed this in several major meetings. It came up in career 

motivation conferences, and it would come up in different places that 

I would travel. I think our people were always concerned, well, as an 

enlisted man, how are they going to handle themselves? Can they make 

their payments? Here they are old enough to be in the service and I think 

we have to show we have that kind of faith in them and give them support. 

We can’t automatically say because they are enlisted lower graders that 

they can’t take care of themselves.

Were there ever any problems?

There were problems; people that were used to someone getting 

them up to get to work on time couldn’t make it, some of them didn’t 

pay their bills. Initially there were problems, but I don’t think there were 

nearly as many problems as some of our people had anticipated.

You then became Chief Master Sergeant of the Air 

Force in October 1971. You had been turned down 

when Harlow was named.

I had been turned down when Harlow was named. Two years 

later I surfaced at the board, and it wasn’t an automatic thing. Gen. [Carl] 

Stapleton did not say, “Well, you are going to be my submission.” We 

polled the field, and they held a board, and quite frankly, I didn’t know 

whether I was going to be the top man out of the command or not because 

we had other very, very good competitors, people who would do well in 

the job. It happened I was the [nominee], and I think I competed with 22 

or 24 other people, at Randolph again. It was about two weeks later that 

I was notified that I was one of the people to come to [Headquarters] Air 

Force for an interview, but I was told not to discuss it with anyone other than 

my family, and the TDY orders would not show that I was in Washington for 

that purpose, and they would tell me exactly what to do.

I came in military air to Andrews [AFB, Maryland] and I was met by 

SSgt Ben McCarter who was working in the CMSAF office. Ben happens to 

be a captain now and has done well in his career. He met me, and he took 

me to the Twin Bridges Marriott motel. They already had the room reserved. 

He said, “Here are the telephone numbers for the office. You are not to call 

anyone or go see anyone while you are here in Washington. We will let you 

know when and where the interviews [are]. If you need anything, call us, but 

you don’t go anyplace except down to the restaurant to eat. “Don’t go out,” 

I thought, “My gosh, this is really super, super secret. It must be important. 

It is so secretive.”

About 10 minutes after he left, I looked at my watch. I think it was 

three o’clock in the afternoon. I thought, “I’m awfully thirsty. I think I’ll 

walk down to the bar and get a beer.” I opened my door, and at the same 

time I opened my door about eight or 10 doors down the door opened, and 

[CMSgt] Dick Stewart stepped out. He said, “What are you doing here?” I 

said, “What are you doing here?” He said, “I just finished my interview this 

morning. I am going to be catching a plane this evening sometime. Let’s go 

get a drink.” We went and had a drink and talked about it. But other than 

that I didn’t have any contact. Then I learned it was Stewart and [CMSgt 

Robert] Colpitt who were the two guys who were being interviewed with me.

Anyway, the next morning McCarter picked me up, and I went over 

to see Gen Robert Dixon. At that time, he was a three-star. It seemed to 

me like I sat in his outer office for an awfully long time. Finally, his door 

opened, and he came out and invited me to come in and asked me to sit 

down on the couch and told me to relax. I said, “How the hell can you relax 

at a time like this?” He said, “You have to relax.” He started giving me some 

probing questions . . .

Then I went down to see Gen. [John C.] Meyer. That was really a 

tough interview. It felt tough, not from the standpoint of questions, but he 

sat back of his great big desk; it was a very formal thing, and I was in a chair 

over by the side of his desk, and he smoked those big cigars and talked in 

those low monotones. I had difficulty understanding some of his questions.

From an audio standpoint.

Yes. I felt that, after I had that interview, I was really confused. I 

thought, “Well, I might as well go back to San Antonio because it is all 

over with.”

How long were you in there? 

I would say probably about 45 minutes.

76
It wasn’t very long. 

No, it wasn’t a very long interview...

We were told when we left there, “We will let you know whenever 

the decision is made.” About two weeks later, I was sitting in my office, 

and I had a call from base ops in San Antonio at Kelly, and they said, 

“There is an inbound coming in. It is going to be in here at five o’clock, 

and there is a colonel on there that has a package for you.” I had no idea 

what they were talking about.

I went down and met the plane. There was a colonel on there from 

Randolph AFB, coming back from TDY, who had a letter from the Chief 

of Staff saying that I had been selected. It also had a note on the outside 

of it that once I read the letter I was to call Headquarters Air Force and let 

them know that I had received the letter. As soon as I did, they released the 

message to all telling the world.

The next morning, I woke up and it was headlines in the San 

Antonio paper. I got front-page coverage on the San Antonio Light. That 

is a little bit different than how the announcement is made today.

When you moved your family up, where did 

you live then?

After the school year was over in June, we moved out to Andrews 

[AFB, Maryland]. There was an old farmhouse out there, out by itself, 

that they elected to set up as the quarters for the Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force. They were supposed to have built quarters at Fort Myer 

[Virginia] for all of the senior NCOs of the services. For some reason they 

were never built.

Does the Chief still live out there? 

No, he does not. [CMSAF Thomas N.] Barnes, when he replaced 

me, stayed in the same house. They added on a bedroom and a bathroom 

because he had a larger family. It was a nice little farmhouse. It had an 

open stairwell with a nice railing and a fireplace. It was very comfortable. 

The only thing, the basement leaked. We had a lot of stuff ruined because 

of water damage and mildew from the basement storage. But it was very 

comfortable. It was out by itself, and it was very relaxing. When you got 

home from a trip, you could go there and really be relaxed. Barnes lived 

there, but when [CMSAF Robert D.] Gaylor came in, Gaylor’s wife, he 

said, did not want to live out there all by herself, so they elected to take one 

of the newer sets of quarters that had been built on Andrews.

On the notes I have here, it says the Air Force was going 

to begin guaranteeing jobs to enlistees in July 1971. 

Was this something new in the Air Force?

Yes, this was something new. Before, everyone had been just handled 

by the recruiters, and once they got to Lackland, they hit the classification 

system. It was at Lackland where they made the decision which career field 

they were going to go into.

The Army had always guaranteed schools, hadn’t they?

Yes, the Army had guaranteed schools, but the Air Force had not. 

So what we started doing then was the career job reservation system, so we 

could guarantee them that if they met all the qualifications that they were 

going to be an aircraft mechanic or a dental technician or whatever it may be.

Did you run into that perennial problem of young Joe 

Brown joins from [Omaha], and he ends up being an SP 

[security police] rather than a computer operator?

We had some of that, but when we started tracking it down after this 

system was devised, we found out that in many cases he did not understand. 

This was one of the reasons why Air Force went to setting forth in writing 

what the promises were by the recruiters.

Had there been recruiter abuse, so to speak, 

on this thing?

Yes, I would say that there was. The recruiting service may take 

objection to this, but there was. I know from my experience in the 3504th 

Recruiting Group that we had recruiters that were promising things, and 

they couldn’t deliver. But they got the person to Lackland, and they may 

have been sucked up by the MPs [military police] or the food service or 

something else, something they didn’t want.

As this began, had you gotten involved in promoting 

this thing over the years, this guarantee? Would that 

have been anything you were familiar with at all?

I was familiar with it from the fact that I had spent some time in the 

recruiting service and being a sergeant major on a base, a personnel sergeant 

major, I often times had people in my office who were complaining about the 

fact that they did not get the career field that they were promised.

TOPCAP [Total Objective Plan for Career Airman 

Personnel], that came in in the 1970s?

TOPCAP came in in the 1970s. That is the Total Objective Plan for 

Career Airman Personnel.5

77
Do you think that was a good thing or a bad thing?

It was a very good thing because encumbered with this was the 

WAPS promotion system, the Weighted Airman Promotion System, 

and then we later tacked on to it the equal selection opportunity for 

promotion. I was there when we decided to go with the equal selection 

opportunity, and we made that decision to have every career field have 

the same opportunity for promotion selection. We also made a decision 

that we were going to have to reclassify people when career fields 

became overage.

Well, what happened . . . was that we never wrote the policies or 

the regulations to enforce that reclassification when we had an overage. 

As a result, we still have serious overages in some of our career fields.

We had talked early on, when we first started thinking about 

this, that if we were going to select a man for senior master sergeant, for 

example, and there were no vacancies, they would have to agree to go into 

another career area in order to get that promotion. But we had too many of 

the “do-gooders” that felt, “This is too stringent of a policy. We can’t do 

this. It isn’t right.” They had been in this career field, so we ought to leave 

them in the career field. Well, it is just common sense if you are running 

your own business, you are not going to pay people to sit around.

Did this TOPCAP also include this forcing people out 

of a certain career point if they didn’t get promoted?

Yes. It built tenure points so people would have to be separated if 

they weren’t promoted.

Is that efficient? In other words, if you have an E-5 

that is doing a very good job and would be satisfied 

staying an E-5, do you have to promote him? Is it 

fair—use the word “fair”—-to force him out of 

the military simply because he is not promotable 

although he is doing well. That is the argument as 

I understand it.

That is the argument, and that is still a good, basic argument. 

What do you do about those people who are really good in their chosen 

profession, and the Air Force needs them. They would never be managers 

or supervisors. You need some of these people. Perhaps the Air Force 

ought to take a relook at this and see what percentage of a career area they 

could keep as skilled technicians who are never going to go but really have 

that solid background. I would think there ought to be some way we could 

look at that today and do something about it.

Did you personally start getting letters from guys, 

“Hey, they are throwing me out of the Air Force?”

Yes. I received many letters and a lot of telephone calls on probably 

every base I went to from someone who was about to be forced out, saying, 

“Why can’t they let me stay?”

Well, I had to support the Air Force program. The decision had 

been made. Gen. Ryan was very supportive of the personnel programs, and 

my words from him were, “Let’s let these things work. We just have them; 

they are in, let’s let them work rather than start diddling around with them.” 

It happened particularly on a promotion. I thought we should authorize 

commanders to make some special selections for promotion like they can 

now. They have a program today where they can make some.6

I was down to Kelly Field, and I was talking to [Maj. Gen. James G.] 

Randolph, who was the deputy commander of that AMA [Air Materiel Area] 

at Kelly at the time. We were getting ready to ship all of these F-5s, these 

T-38 trainers, over to Southeast Asia right at the end of the war. They had all 

of their engineers researching the best way for them to make the shipment, 

how to put them in the C-5s or C-141s, whichever they were using to fly 

them over. They were having a great deal of difficulty with this, very highlevel people working on the configuration of how they should be shipped.

They found a staff sergeant who had been a loadmaster who 

was working as a cook in the galley of the aircraft assigned to that AMA 

commander. He said, “This is very easy.” He went over and worked it and 

set up a program how they could tear those things down and put them in and 

ship them. Gen. Randolph wanted to do something for this guy. I came back 

and talked to Gen. Ryan, and Gen. Ryan said, “Well, it is all well and good, 

but we can’t dork around with the WAPS promotion system. I don’t want to 

do it. The system is working. Let’s not foul it up.”

I am sure he was concerned because of all the pressure he had had 

from Congress, all the letters to congressmen. These things just died out 

after we got the Weighted Airman Promotion System. But until this day I 

still think the staff sergeant should have gotten a spot promotion.

I have note here that in fiscal year 1971, the first 

term retention rate was the best in six years. Do you 

remember why that was?

I think it was because our people were convinced that they had a 

lot of opportunity to see where they were going. I think the Weighted 

Airman Promotion System and the TOPCAP program, they could see where 

there was an avenue for progression, and I think that is why we had that 

good retention.

78
What do you think of—I don’t know if that would 

be classified as professional military education 

or professional military training? How do you feel 

about professional military education?

I think professional military education is one of the best steps that 

we have taken in the last 30 years, maybe since we split from the Army. 

As we have become more and more sophisticated and tried to centralize 

more and more, we have expected people to step into jobs and perform 

those jobs without the benefit of a great deal of experience. So we throw 

them into these jobs, and they are supposed to be leaders and supervisors. 

I think we do a fairly comprehensive job on the technical training, but on 

the military side of the house, professional side, management side, up 

until about 1975–76 we really didn’t have our act together.

That came about as a result of [Lt. Gen. Kenneth L.] Tallman’s 

Air Force Management Improvement Group [AFMIG] that he convened 

during the summer of 1975 for Gen. [David C.] Jones. They looked at 

the entire spectrum of what was going on in the enlisted side of the house 

(and some on the officers to a degree) and one of the first things this group 

came out with was a statement: We need to professionally develop our 

noncommissioned officers like we do our officers. As a result, the Air 

Force built a five-phase professional military education system for the 

enlisted. I can see now that it is starting to pay real dividends. Looking back 

in retrospect, had we had it 35 years ago, it would have been tremendous. 

We depended on the process of osmosis, if you will, to teach these people.

The Senior NCO Academy was approved by Congress in 

the fall of 1972, and it officially opened in January 

1973. Had you been involved in pushing this or getting 

it organized or going to Congress?

Yes, very much so. There had been some discussion before 

we opened it about making it a First Sergeant Academy. We knew we 

could not send all of the first sergeants to it, and I didn’t want to see that 

happen. I felt that all of our senior NCOs needed this type of professional 

military education, and to limit it to only one area would be wrong for the 

Air Force. So the decision was made then that it would not be the first 

sergeant school; it would be a senior NCO academy.

At that time a Col. [Robert K.] McCutchen and Ray Warren were 

there. Col. McCutchen had two secretaries that were working with him 

along with Ray Warren and this other individual that moved over when 

they moved to Gunter [AFB, Alabama] to really get this thing going. I 

thought it was one of the best things that happened for the Air Force.

Had you gone to Congress to testify on this?

I had not. The testifying had all been done, but there were still 

decisions being made, like the first sergeant business and so forth.

Was there some meaning that it was put over at Gunter 

rather than on Air University, Maxwell AFB, Alabama?

I think the real reason was that there was not space on the AU for it. 

As I look back now, I think it is a good thing that it was established over at 

Gunter. I think it probably has more prestige being away from the officers, 

separated from the rest of the AU. A lot of people will argue that and say, 

“No, it would give it more prestige if it was right there on the circle with all 

of the rest,” but I think there would be problems. There wasn’t adequate 

office space, auditorium space, classroom space, or billeting for the people. 

As a result, what they have done at Gunter, they are going to have a very firstclass facility when this new construction is finished. The new dorms they are 

getting are all very, very nice, and it is going to be really a first-class school. 

When you talk to people in the other services that go there that have gone 

to their schools, there is just no comparison. Our school is just head and 

shoulders above the rest.

From the onset, was it hoped for or planned for 

down the road that a NCO would eventually run the 

organization?

We were talking about that, but the thought was at that time in the 

Pentagon, “We are going to give you a full colonel, and the colonel will 

be the commandant. You cannot have an enlisted commandant in charge 

of this school.” Really, the thinking didn’t start changing on that until the 

Tallman AFMIG Group of 1975.7

 It was after that that people started 

talking seriously about trying to make that a senior NCO position. It took 

Gen. [Charles G.] Cleveland to do this, and he did it despite the objections 

of some of his superiors who said it wouldn’t work. I think it worked very, 

very well. They picked the right man for the job, and I think that is what we 

have to do on all of them.

Was the Air Force leadership structure opposed to the 

SNCO Academy down there as it developed?

There were some pockets of resistance. Some people thought 

we were going too far. What are you going to do with these people when 

they get out? Well, we did have a problem until 1975–76 when we started 

really trying to do something about better jobs, because these people came 

back and I think for the most part they were better qualified than most of 

the company and field grade officers they were working for. They certainly 

had had their horizons broadened, and in many cases they were more 

ambitious than they ever were before. They started thinking about trying 

to do something.

79
You were interviewed for the Air Force Association 

Magazine in January 1972. You talked about you 

wanted better housing and pay—of course that is 

standard. That is like more money or something—

and more PME for NCOs. The three things you noted 

in the negative sense were you thought first-line 

supervisors were being bypassed, and there was a 

lack of knowledge about the Air Force itself by the 

enlisted people. What was the problem there?

Absolutely. We had people who were specialists. They really 

didn’t understand their job, how their job contributed to what the Air 

Force was doing, what the Air Force mission was. They couldn’t see that 

the supply guy at Kincheloe AFB [Michigan] didn’t understand that his 

job was very important to making sure those birds were launched every 

day. If he didn’t do his job right, someone didn’t get the supplies whether 

it be in the housing or wherever. People couldn’t do their jobs that would 

really support getting this done. I felt that our first echelon supervisors 

were being bypassed, particularly with this business of this emphasis on 

human relations, that they weren’t having to work the problems. They 

didn’t take an interest in their people. They were told not too many times. 

“You don’t have any control. Let him or her go do whatever they are going 

to do, but you don’t need to get into it.” Things do not run smoothly in any 

organization structured like the military service unless everyone along the 

line that is responsible is involved.

Did the drawdown of the Vietnam War now make 

your work easier or harder, or did it make any 

difference at all?

I don’t think it made too much difference. Although we had a lot 

of troops over there that were not too busy, I think we had more problems. 

There was more tendency for involvement in drugs, more alcohol, and 

so forth, and more chance for people to stop and think about things and 

complain more.

Did you have any participation in this Operation 

Homecoming when they brought the POWs back 

from Vietnam?

No, I did not. As I look back in retrospect, I probably should have 

forced myself into it. I was not invited to actively participate in this thing, 

but a little older and a little wiser, I think, I would have forced myself into 

this thing.

We were talking about PME. The Air Force, of 

course, down at Maxwell they had that leadership 

management school. Some would say that you can’t 

manage a military organization—you cannot use 

entrepreneurial concepts in a military organization. 

You cannot take these entrepreneurial business 

operations and methodologies and everything and try 

to run an air force. Do you think there was a time or is 

a time that the Air Force has tried to be too much 

like a business?

Yes. We have had times. I think it has only been in the last six or seven 

years that we have really gotten serious about getting back to leadership being 

number one and management being a subset of leadership. We spent a lot 

of money sending at least our colonel-level people to management schools 

outside of the Air Force, sending them back to college to get master’s and so 

forth, management being the big thing. I think now that we have arrived, and 

we have since 1975–76, at the decision that management, while important 

and while we need it—it is very important—it really is a subset from a military 

standpoint to leadership. Leadership is a predominant requirement.

Do you think you can teach a man to be a leader, or 

once again, is that something that has to be born into 

an individual?

I think you can if you start early enough and provided he is put in an 

environment where he sees—besides the schools, you have to put him in an 

environment where he sees leadership by example. If he doesn’t see it, then 

the schools are not going to pay great dividends.

80
Did you ever develop, in your career, anything that 

became Chief Kisling’s leadership technique? Did you 

ever develop something that you found useful?

Number one, I think first of all, you need to be up front with your 

people, and you can’t play one person against the other. You have to 

treat all of the people that are working with you the same. They have to 

be treated fairly. You have to listen. This is one thing that I have tried to 

do, and one thing that a lot of people fall down on is they fail to listen to 

their people. I found this with my children, and I see it now with my little 

grandchildren. You have to hear what they have to say. Even if you know 

what they are going to say, you have to let the person say it the way they 

want to say it because they want to make sure that you understand what 

they are talking about. Far too many people don’t have the time to listen. I 

see this today. It happens a lot at the senior level. They say, “I don’t want 

to hear that. I don’t have time to hear it. I know all about it.” Well, you 

kill a lot of initiative and you lose a lot of confidence of your people in you 

when you don’t have time to hear what they have to say.

I also think you need to exhibit, when it comes to leadership, the 

leadership—if you are an active duty Air Force man, you really need to 

exude that 24 hours a day no matter where you are. It has to be the same 

whether you are in the club or whether you are out to a social event, and I 

don’t mean stilted, as it is in the office. You can’t just become a different 

person. And you see a lot of people that completely change once they get 

into a social environment and everyone is their friend. Then when they get 

to the office in their work environment, down on the flight line or wherever 

it is, they don’t have time for any of these people. They get caught up in 

their own importance in these jobs; I think they have to remember the 

only way they can ever be successful is for their people to be successful 

and to give the people that are doing the job the credit for it. Far too many 

times we have section heads and division heads, particularly in the staff 

business, that rewrite things. A lot of them rewrite it just so they have 

their name on the piece of paper. So if there is going to be any kudos, it is 

going to be to them. By the time people get to those jobs, they should have 

enough confidence in themselves to know that the people above them are 

really looking at: What are you doing with your people? How well are you 

developing your people? Are they able to produce? That is what leadership 

and management has to be. Those are rather basic and rather simplistic. I 

think those are the things that I really consider on looking for leadership.

81
Thomas N. Barnes

October 1, 1973 - July 31, 1977

Thomas Barnes was born on 16 

November 1930 and raised in the small 

town of a Chester, Pennsylvania, where 

his father was the minister of the largest 

black Baptist church. He was fond of the 

small town. As a teenager, following his 

father’s death, he worked part time for 

a local shipbuilding company to help 

support his family. However, in 1949, 

at the age of 18, he boarded a train for 

San Antonio, Texas, to begin his long Air 

Force journey.

Barnes received what he calls,

“the shock of my life” when he reached 

Lackland AFB, Texas. Base adminis-

trators immediately split him from his 

white friends and held him in casual 

status until enough black recruits ar-

rived to form a flight. He was in one of 

the last flights that year to experience 

the complete and total segregation of 

basic training.

During his 28-year career, 

Barnes served as an aircraft maintainer, 

flight engineer, flight chief, and senior 

controller. He was promoted to chief 

master sergeant on 1 December 1969 

and was selected as the Air Training 

Command senior enlisted leader in 

October 1971. In 1973 he was a graduate 

of the Senior Noncommissioned Officer 

Academy inaugural class. That same 

year, Gen George S. Brown selected him 

to be the fourth Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force. Barnes would be the first 

African-American to serve in the highest 

enlisted post in any of the services.

Barnes worked for equal op-

portunities for all minorities during his 

tenure. He also worked to solidify the 

enlisted professional military education 

system. Following the initial two-year 

tenure, Gen. David Jones extended him 

for one year. He was later extended for an 

additional year, becoming the first Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force (CM-

SAF) to serve four years in the position. 

Barnes retired in 1977 but stayed close 

to the Air Force through speaking en-

gagements at military functions. He suc-

cumbed to cancer on 17 March 2003.

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

82
The Air Force Historical Research Center interviewed Barnes 

in November of 1980. During the interview, Barnes discussed his 

experience as a black Airman in a newly integrated Air Force, the 

nation’s response to the Vietnam War, and the challenge of serving 

with a large family. The complete interview can be accessed on the Air 

University Library online research center.1

 Portions of the interview 

are printed below. The order of some of the questions and answers has 

been adjusted to depict a chronological reflection on the life and career of 

Thomas N. Barnes.

To begin the interview this morning, Chief Barnes, 

I would like to ask you a few questions about your 

early family life.

I came from a family of four children. There were two sisters 

and one brother. The two sisters were older, and the brother was a year 

younger than I.

My father was a Baptist minister. He pastored the largest black 

Baptist church in Chester, Pennsylvania. As a matter of fact, his name 

is still in the cornerstone of that church, which is named Providence 

Baptist Church. It is at the corner of Second and Pennell Streets. The 

neighborhood, as I saw it last, is quite rundown, but the church is very 

prominent in it and still has a relatively large congregation. He died in 

my early teens. I was 14 as a matter of fact. My mother was not in good 

health; she had had a kidney removed right around the period of his death 

and was unable to work, but she was, nevertheless, very encouraging to 

my remaining in high school, at least, and then to keeping the family very 

close until we could all sort of get out on our own. She passed during the 

late 1960s after a long illness.

By the time I graduated from high school, given my family 

situation, that is my father having passed, my mother’s insistence that I 

stay in school to finish at least high school, a need now to provide some 

things for the family, and certainly being of age to do that, I had worked 

part-time jobs, night jobs, and all. They were relatively easy, I might add, 

because those were the war years in the 1940s. I worked as a supply man 

in a shipyard, some shipbuilding company in Chester.

So I worked a short time after my graduation from school at the 

shipyard, and then I went to a recruiting office, and because some friends 

had gone in the Navy, I really enlisted in the Navy. The day I was to go to 

Great Lakes Naval Training Center, before my swearing in, I got sick with 

strep throat. I had a fever of 105 and got admitted to a hospital, and the last 

thing I remember, really, about that was being placed in a tub with alcohol 

and ice to break this fever, sort of a little out time there. Upon coming 

around, much to my sorrow, whenever I got to where I could comprehend 

things that were going on, I had missed my training period at Great Lakes 

and had to wait, they told me. I said, “Oh, hell, I didn’t want to wait.”

In this same building, which was our downtown post office building, 

were, like in most towns, the Navy recruiter, the Air Force recruiter, the 

Army recruiter, so I went to the Air Force recruiting office and told them I 

had taken a physical. I had done everything but swear in for the Navy, and 

they couldn’t take me until the next opening came at Great Lakes. The guy 

said, “Oh, hell, that’s no problem for us. We can send you right away.” I 

said, “Okay, I think I’m ready to go,” and I took an Air Force entry test, 

having done all the rest of the work. The physical and all was administered at 

Scoop Hill Hospital in Philadelphia. That was the entrance and examination 

station, and I left home on 14 April 1949. That was Easter Monday.

When I left home for Lackland [AFB, Texas], I left with a number 

of other people from my own neighborhood, two friends as a matter of fact, 

and several others in other towns in Pennsylvania, but we left on a train 

journeying to San Antonio, good long train ride. It made a good opportunity 

to be friends. I learned a couple of new card games en route. As I say, there 

was plenty of time for that. But then I got the shock of my life, I guess, at that 

point in arriving at San Antonio, being picked up from the train station and 

trucked out to Lackland and ran into a segregated basic training situation. 

Today, when I talk about that, I find many people look very strangely and 

say, “Well, I never knew the Air Force was like that.” But it was. I was one of 

the last flights in that year that experienced a complete and total segregation 

of basic training.2

 So the friends that I had gone with I lost. They were on the 

other side of US 13, as you know, the loop runs through Lackland. White 

trainees were on one side of that and black trainees on the other. Very few 

people remember that about Lackland. But each time I visit it, and I do have 

the opportunity fairly frequently, I often look at what now is left to kind of 

identify where I was down there.

How long was your basic training during that period?

Thirteen weeks, 13 weeks to include bivouac. I look back on that. I 

have discussed it, obviously, a number of times with people who think basic 

training today is not adequate. You hear that. “Oh, they are not giving us 

any training.” I think that probably is not true. I think all that happened 

was they shaved off the fat of the training program, not that it was wasted 

at that time, but rather there were a number of things basic trainees did in 

the actual course of training that Air Force people as a mission never really 

got into. One of those was the bivouac situation. There was a requirement 

to go bivouac. Hell, Air Force people don’t bivouac unless they get special 

assignments, and if they do, then the bivouac training comes as a result of 

that special assignment preparation in the field as opposed to a thing in 

basic training. These were some of the principal changes.

We spent a great deal of time dry and wet firing weapons. At that time there 

was a need for the disassembly, the assembly of the weapons, both hand and 

long weapons. There was a great deal of time in the dry fire, and then, of 

course, a great deal of time in the wet fire to actually qualify. The bent was, 

other than the periodic requirement to fire again, never really having a job 

that put you in contact with a firearm. So I think the changes in basic training 

were smart changes. They recognized this time factor and concentrated on 

the actual things that people are going to do today when they get in the field.

83
There is discipline. If you go to Lackland and watch basic 

trainees, you won’t find a one who doesn’t address you snappily as “yes, 

sir,” “no, sir,” or “yes, ma’am,” or “no, ma’am,” and they know where 

they are, and they know left from right when they come out of there. That 

kind of deteriorates perhaps in the field. This is not uphill. It may even 

begin to deteriorate slightly at the tech school level, perhaps a little less 

tightly controlled there. I think there is a marked difference, however, in 

the TIs [training instructors]. I think these guys were selected sadists. 

There was no hesitancy to inflict great disciplinary punishment on people 

who offended the system. I think there was merit in that. It made you wish 

not to offend the system. It was memorable to that degree. I think it was a 

lasting kind of thing. It, however, fell into the area today as abuse and/or 

an intrusion of civil rights, so to speak.

I would like to be specific about some of the kinds of things that 

took place. At lunch hour and quiet [hours], noise in the barracks often 

were not identifiable, and you would never find who laughed in the middle 

of the night. This often caused us all to have to fall out and get dressed. 

It caused us all to have to get scrub brushes and buckets and go around 

those old dormitories that were over in the 3080 area and scrub the sides 

of these damn things until they were actually white, and the floors were 

like toothpicks in there from scrubbing. You would actually take out the 

cots and take out the footlockers—and that was all you had. There was a 

little hanging rack behind the bed that your clothes stayed on—and you 

got down on your hands and knees and you scrubbed the thing, and you 

took buckets and rinsed it down, and then your bedding was outside and 

everything, and you put it back in.

You know, you soon got sensitive to not screwing up, really. 

The old octagon soap bars, and I’ll never forget them, seemed to never 

wear out. There was always plenty of that around. Then there were forced 

marches, with packs. There were the actual duck walks, which were some 

things where a formation was left at rest while the TIs stepped away.

Since the TIs were black, we were black, there was certainly no 

discrimination, and all you could say was, “This guy was the meanest 

bastard I ever saw.” They were sharp. They wore blue helmets with 

white stripes around them, as I remember. They wore white gloves, and 

some of the starched, most perfectly pressed fatigue uniforms and highly 

polished shoes I ever saw, and they were good. They could instill rhythm 

in a marching group. They could instill great pride, and we won the drill 

competition because, I think, of this heavy discipline. I was very proud of 

that achievement at the end of the 13 weeks. It certainly welded a bunch 

of people with different ideas into a pretty doggone good group.

I left Lackland with many fond memories, needless to say, and I 

went on to Chanute [AFB, Illinois], and I went into tech school, into Aircraft 

and Engine School, and I worked on the kinds of class 26 airplanes that 

were there at that time, which were P-47s [Thunderbolt fighter aircraft], 

and we had one F-80 [Shooting Star], an early jet.3

 Obviously, it had some 

damage, so they class 26’d it and brought it there. We learned the ejection 

system on the jet airplane from the F-80. There was a lot of classroom work, 

a lot of academic exposure. Everything was in the old lockstep method of 

technical training at that time, irrespective of the capability of the students 

to grasp it and go ahead. There was no way to handle one that went ahead, so 

he was lockstepped in with the slow learner, and it kind of got to the point 

that if you were abreast of what was going on and you did your studies at 

night, class could get a little bit boring in that regard.

Was the training at Chanute still segregated?

No. The training at Chanute was mixed, training at Lackland was 

segregated, training at Chanute was mixed, placement at Camp Stoneman 

[California] was in waiting for an assignment overseas, and the integration 

order had come. There were a number of organizations in the Air Force at 

that time without blacks in them. The 4th Troop Carrier Squadron, 62nd 

Troop Carrier Group, at McChord AFB [Washington], was one of those 

squadrons. I went as the first black in the 4th Troop Carrier Squadron, 

which was an experience I assure you.

How long was the school at that time?

Quite long, nearly a year with the specialty added on to the end of 

it. Some of the courses now, if you were in just one element of the aircraft 

and engine course, was about six months, I think somewhere, eight or nine 

months. If you got the basic aircraft and then the engine portion added and 

then a specialist’s school on the back end of that, then it kind of extended. 

Some went into rigging specialties that dealt expressly with that; others 

went into engine specialties and really became specialized in engines. It 

was a good system then. It is a better system, I know, now by far, but it was 

quite good and, I think, adequate for the preparation that was needed. It just 

tended not to be sensitive to the many different things that make up human 

beings. That would be the major difference I would have to cite between 

then and now.

Anyway, upon going to McChord, a new experience took place. 

This was a troop carrier organization. It was an organization that had 

C-54 [Skymaster four-engined transport] aircraft. Having now a hydraulic 

specialty, I was assigned to the hydraulics shop, and I worked at night 

doing inspections on C-54s and maintenance. My shop chief was named 

Roy Arquello. Roy was a staff sergeant and probably one of the sharpest 

hydraulic mechanics the Air Force ever had. He taught me an awful lot 

about the system, but because the C-54 had the kind of emergency system 

it had—it had hydraulic wipers and all, not too unlike other airplanes but, 

nevertheless, it differed slightly—I went to Great Falls, Montana, to specialize 

in C-54 hydraulic systems. They specialized on the C-54, so I got a further 

specialization in, now, not only the system but the airplane.

84
Then I went back to McChord and got the shock of my life because 

by then Korea had gotten to be a boiling issue. I got back on Tuesday, and 

we had a meeting the following day in our hangar where the commander 

informed everybody to prepare for a 90-day TDY to Japan and settle all the 

things you needed to settle right now, if you had some that were pressing, 

because the first airplanes would leave Saturday morning. So I left with 

my organization going over to Ashiya, Japan. Some of the airplanes purely 

carried personnel, others carried maintenance equipment.

We made a stop at Wake Island—I was on a heavily loaded airplane 

so we made a fuel stop—and another airplane that landed there had a brake 

problem, a leaking brake. Well, that was of little moment. They took all 

the people off of it, and we had jacks and equipment on it, and I had an 

opportunity to practice my hydraulic expertise en route, so I did some 

brake maintenance and cleaned that up. It was just a normal thing. Then 

we went on.

I got over to Ashiya, Japan, and we landed, unloaded our airplanes 

that night, started loading cargo on, and the crews turned right around 

and the next day were flying missions in Korea, just nonstop. From then 

until I came back to the States, the shifts were 12 on and 12 off. So my 

introduction into that life early was one of hard work; it was one of great 

effort, and then of some learning because there was a need to do other 

things now than my specialty. 

Barnes describes his personal training to become 

a flight engineer . . .

In my 12 off, I could do what I pretty much pleased. I got an okay 

from the operations people to fly on an airplane and learn what a flight 

engineer does, and I watched [Crew Chief Leon B.] DeGarmo. He had 

confidence in me. He put me in the jump seats. His pilots, the pilot and 

copilot, accepted that on his say-so and let me do the takeoff and the 

prelanding check, and it began a training program for me. I knew the 

hydraulic system, and I had mechanic friends who were engine people, 

who were APU, auxiliary power unit, people, who were electricians, who 

were airframe people, and I spent time with them in the inspection dock, 

sharing hydraulic knowledge with them, gaining propeller knowledge 

from them.

After 11 months of extensions in this initial 90-day TDY that I 

mentioned to you awhile back, the squadron moved from Ashiya, Japan, 

to Tachikawa, Japan, and changed designations on paper. The 4th Troop 

Carrier Squadron went back to the States, on paper, and the 14th Troop 

Carrier Squadron came over. The people and equipment stayed in place. 

The 4th picked up C-124s [Globemaster II heavy-lift cargo aircraft] back 

at McChord, and the 14th stayed with the C-54s.

By now, I was a flight engineer, budding flight engineer, but no 

checkride. The checkride was a matter of a pilot certifying this in the form 

of an engineering officer. That’s where I ran into [a] blockage, a refusal 

to certify. I flew and never got certified. It was very heartbreaking for 

a good while.

Then one day, as a matter of mission necessity, all of the flight 

engineers were tasked for a max mission, so they couldn’t be used for the 

test flights, and the test pilot had to take me with him. Here is where I had 

had the blockage before, and here is where he and I came to grips in that 

airplane on a test flight, getting it ready to put into a mission lineup. What 

I am saying here . . . is that often in the face of things for the country—that 

was, in essence, for the country—comes some other things. It came, that 

realization in the air, doing engine featherings, doing retractions, doing 

some free falls, doing stalls, where his dependence upon me doing what 

I should have done made the safety of that test flight what it was and vice 

versa. I think there grew an interdependence in that situation.

We got on the ground; he looked me straight in the eye, and he said, 

“I had no intent for your certification, but after today’s workout up there, 

I see no way to deny that.” And he pinned the certification for my flight 

engineer status on.

Barnes describes his deployment in support of 

the Korean War . . .

By the time I had completed my tour over there, the accumulation of 

750 hours, I had some interesting times over in Korea.

During one of these learning things I had, I had an airplane that 

encountered an accident and kept me over there for about, I guess, 19 

days doing a salvage job on it, taking off everything I could get off, and they 

had other airplanes landing sending it back. This got to be one of the most 

interesting things that happened to me over there. It happened at Suwon 

[Air Base, Korea] in February 1951, as I recall. It was cold. It was miserable 

conditions. The Army had just taken the Suwon strip, and there were no 

permanent structures on it at all. There was a big mess camp, and there was a 

medical tent that they did emergency surgery and repair of people who were 

wounded and injured in preparation for flights back to Japan to the hospital. 

There was a tent in which the ambulance drivers stayed and ambulatory 

patients. I stayed in this tent at night when I couldn’t work on the airplane. I 

could see many, many, and sometimes very few, of our troops come in, Army 

and Marine people come in wounded. As a matter of fact, a couple of guys 

died in the tent next to me during one night. It was an awakening experience 

for a young guy, I can assure you.

85
I got back to Japan. Obviously, things were a hell of a lot better. 

I had a chance for some milk runs then—milk runs being what few 

dependents were in that area moving from Japan down to the Philippines. 

Then you would stage crews down there, that is, you would fly a crew 

down, and they would bring your airplane back, and you would stay five 

days. Another crew would come down. You would bring your airplane 

back, and they would stay. This gave you a little break, a little respite from 

that kind of thing. I appreciated the break at that time.

Then one of the most trying points in my career took place. I was 

in a dining hall, and just like the cases in many dining halls in an occupied 

country and some in status of forces countries, the indigenous personnel 

girls who were serving on trays milk, coffee, and tea and whatever else, 

and the ugly American surfaced in the presence of a guy who reached 

out and grabbed one of these girls by the buttocks as she went by. Like 

any self-respecting woman, though she was Japanese, she turned around 

and showed her dislike for that. He leaped up and slapped her. He said, 

“Shut up! You sons of bitches shouldn’t have started the war. Moreover, 

you shouldn’t have lost it.” She broke down and cried. She just cried and 

cried. I didn’t really understand wholly what I saw. Just a little bit later, I 

did. When I say a little bit later, that was after my marriage and my own 

children. What I saw was, but for my being over there and the commitment 

of many, many other Americans in overseas places, however the discomfort 

be, was that situation in reverse. The feet of foreign soldiers on our soil 

and that being my daughter or your daughter or my sister or maybe even 

somebody’s wife, that was the turning point in a solid commitment for 

me, and that was before the end of my first enlistment. Enlistments were 

three-year enlistments then; they were not four years. I was committed to 

a career because of the kinds of things that I saw.

I finished my time over there by the accumulation of 750 hours, 

and I rotated back to the States. By then the assignments process had 

gotten away so much from unit assignment, and I went all the way to 

Springfield, Massachusetts, to Westover [AFB], to what then was the 

1253nd Air Transport Squadron. It had C-54s, and its mission was 

NEAC, Northeast Air Command, flying up into Argentia and Torbay, 

Newfoundland. I was, of course, in my flight engineer duties there. They 

got designated the 30th Air Transport Squadron and identified to receive 

C-118s [Liftmaster piston-powered transport aircraft], which was a 

nice airplane. It was a new bird, not that much different but significant 

differences, too, when you really got down to looking and comparing the 

two airplanes, much different engines, different propeller system. It was a 

one-prop control and a sync button as opposed to four-prop controls, just 

a beautiful airplane, the C-118 versus the old C-54. If you looked at the 

two airplanes and didn’t know airplanes, they would look very much alike. 

I appreciated that.

Then came the opportunity to volunteer for some duty with the 

1308th Ferry Group headquarters which was at Kelly Field here in Texas, 

and I did that because I knew a few of the guys who were in the troop carrier 

squadron had gone to the ferry group down at Kelly, and I found that 

interesting. So I volunteered. I went down there.

By that time, I had married and I had kids. If you remember the old 

commissioning system, one of the criteria for that was no marriage. Today, 

and this is what I meant by an intrusion into today, hell, you can’t deny a guy 

flying because he is married or commissioning. The idea, however, was the 

pay of a cadet didn’t support a family at that time. You had to buy books and 

all. You just couldn’t support it until there was some substance. Well, that’s 

a personal thing today. That would be an intrusion into your personal life 

whether you had the money. You know, this is just like getting permission 

to get married. Hell, if your commander didn’t think you could handle it, he 

denied you the privilege, or the first sergeant for that matter. It’s the power 

of men in positions. I say that with some underlining.

First sergeants were hellaciously powerful. They controlled your 

destiny. You had to actually request permission to get married, and if they 

reviewed your financial status and said, “Jim Hasdorff, you are a screw 

up. You don’t manage your money well enough, hell, no,” you didn’t 

get married.

You mentioned . . . that when you first got to McChord, 

you were the first black Airman to be assigned. What 

was the nature of these problems when you first 

arrived there?

Well, I think, initially, the myth thing was the biggest problem, in an 

open-bay barracks, the myth that blacks would steal. You know, everybody 

was a little guarded about their stuff. Or they smell and they don’t wash 

regularly. Nobody really wanted to bunk above or below me. I had a little 

problem finding a place to get, initially. I think a little reluctance on the part 

of officials to intercede because they didn’t understand either what was to 

take place. Those were the initial kinds of problems. They would be hard to 

detect unless you were experiencing them yourself, which I think underlies 

a lot of the system where there were people attempting to investigate or look 

at things that were allegations of mistreatment, and not understanding what 

mistreatment is and how it comes about. I think, while that’s not pleasant, 

it helped me to be able to understand what was actually happening to and 

around me.

86
In instances before that, I had experienced a few things, as an 

example, with cross-country trips with my crew, at a stop and an attempt 

off an installation one evening, as a crew, to get a bite to eat. We went in 

an and we had a waitress come and take the orders, but say, “You will have 

to pick yours up around at the back. We can’t serve you here.” My crew 

demanded, “Just what the hell do you mean? We all came in together.” 

She said, “I know. I don’t make the rules here, but I work here, and we 

can’t serve him in here. There is a window around back where he can go 

pick it up.” And they said, “Bullshit, if he can’t eat, we won’t eat.” “But 

you have already ordered.” They said, “That’s your problem.” So we got 

up and walked out, and then, obviously, it was a matter of what had been 

ordered now and nobody would pay for it. In an attempt to leave then, an 

attempt by the management and two or three bystanders to get this taken 

care of, giving them as much guilt as I had, so it became an exciting few 

moments. We were able to literally scuffle our way free of that.

I think this is indicative of many of the early struggles in having 

listened to some of the kinds of problems that our people had at different 

places. I think these are not too unlike how it begins. I think how it ended, 

often—some tragic endings—was probably the key to handling it or not. 

I was thankful for whatever elements of patience there was to not have 

things turn out that way, and it later became an asset at dealing with that 

kind of thing in helping the Air Force and other people.

I would like to ask you a question in regard to 

your various promotions. Did you feel that your 

promotions through the various grades were 

equitable, or were there any long periods where 

you didn’t see a promotion?

I think they were quite equitable, particularly during my first 

enlistment, which was a three-year enlistment. At the end of that 

enlistment, I was a staff sergeant. That was pretty fast moving for a 

three-year tour, but I think it was largely in tune with the work volume. 

I mentioned in some earlier discussion that during much or most of the 

overseas work in two 12-hour shifts that I worked my normal functions 

and then a flying function and slept somewhere in between there. While I 

didn’t always see it, it was clear that the recognition for that in promotion 

was very fair and just. I had no problem with that.

There was a very long period, however, not just for myself but I 

think, for the entire enlisted force, as it sought to reduce what was called 

the “Korean Hump,” and there was quite a lengthy time between staff 

sergeant and tech, as I recall. From tech on to chief, I think, were fairly 

normal time spans. I do, in all fairness, say that I think there may have been 

a little acceleration because of the Vietnam War. I think my promotion to 

senior was quite unexpected at the time it came, and then certainly later 

to chief at the time it came. I just anticipated, because of how the cycles in 

time had been prior to that, that it would be a longer period.

WAPS [Weighted Airman Promotion System] was 

implemented in June 1970 after extensive research 

by the Air Force Human Resources Laboratory. From 

your own experience, how successful has that 

program been?

WAPS has been very successful. It places the burden of responsibility 

directly on the shoulder of the individual, the necessity to prepare for the 

testing, knowing what the scores are. The factors that are weighted are, in 

all but a few cases, directly at the control of the individual. Now, there may 

be a necessity at some point to change a factor or two, expressly points given 

for decorations, for example, which I believe are still included. I profess a 

mild ignorance here in that I have not looked directly at WAPS over the last 

few years, but it was a weighted factor. If you were in a career area that never 

exposed you to the opportunity to get a medal, as an example—and I used 

to use this example in talking about that need to change a weighted factor—

if you look at an Airman or NCO [noncommissioned officer] working 

in a synthetic trainer system, a simulator, great technical capability, but 

there are none of those overseas, so there is never going to be an overseas 

opportunity to go do that job. Then the attainment that some of the ribbons 

or medals that carry point value are not going to come that way, so this guy 

feels shortchanged of this skill because of their duty type. In that regard, 

there would need to be some offsets in other things with your extremely 

high point value that would offset the absence of a medal.

On the other hand, where there is a well-rounded utilization of the 

AFSC [Air Force Specialty Code], overseas and point values for ribbons and 

medals become a factor or the opportunity for getting the different kinds 

of medals exists more in some career fields than others, then there appears 

to be some little offset there. But beyond that, I think WAPS has done a 

splendid job, and I think, by and large, it provides a means to see, really, 

where you are, especially if there is a missed cycle in preparing for the next.

I think there are some cautions to utter. Those cautions are, 

however, the point values awarded for attendance at PME [professional 

military education] schools when they used the school basically for the 

attainment of the points. The significance here is that there are points given 

for correspondence and in-residence, and the feeling is, “Well, if I can 

get the points for correspondence, I won’t go to school,” which leaves to 

me something lacking in how this is done. I would think that school may 

necessarily need to be a by-product of the promotion. You get promoted 

and then you get the opportunity to go to school. I think it would turn that 

around and discourage any proliferation of the achievement of points by 

virtue of that kind of a system. That may be backwards. I always had a little 

trouble with that anyway.

I think our PME process is badly needed and certainly having 

worked hard to get it on line, across the board that is, I support the fact that 

it shouldn’t be abused in anyway. I think there is some abuse to the system 

in that regard.

87
In your move from Laughlin to Randolph [AFB, Texas] 

as a senior enlisted advisor, from your perspective, 

what was the difference in your position from one 

place to the other?

After moving to the Air Training Command Headquarters, it was 

immediately clear that Air Training Command did so much more. It was 

responsible for the basic training. This is the initial introduction of people 

from a civilian sector into a military role. The same thing applied for 

officers through the OTS [Officer Training School] function. That was a 

thing that Air Training Command [ATC] did. But Air Training Command 

also had the total technical training responsibility in all of the career 

fields, so right away my role both enlarged or expanded and changed to 

include methods of assisting my boss in the regard of all that Air Training 

Command did.

It became obvious that we needed to do some things with casual 

time at our tech schools, both in the preschool and postschool sense, 

where students had arrived early and not able to start class with casual 

time on their hands. This is the area that was very, very critical in which 

the discipline instilled in the basic training tended to decline. The basic 

training was very tightly controlled, and once in the tech school, it was very 

tightly controlled, after you started the class. The casual period, however, 

gave leeway for “Well, what the hell is the use? They hurried and got me 

here, and now I am not doing anything.”

On the other end of that, when the graduation was done [if you 

finished early], you had to wait on your class.4

 We were able to spot the 

great decline of interest that took place in this casual period, waiting for 

the rest of the class to catch up. This guy had time on his hands. If they 

used him, then there was not what was called productive usage. It pissed 

him off, to be very honest, or pissed her off to be used in some menial 

sense, to be just a gap filler, waiting for an assignment action.

We had excesses in a number of career fields, if you recall, and 

we forced cross training. We forced people out of some career fields into 

others, irrespective of their abilities to do this. Many times, they were 

there, but they were spinning their wheels. This shed some light on that 

through spying it early on in a technical preparation for that particular 

career field. So we were able to resolve a great number of problems in 

this respect.

The needs for some consideration of new quarters and better 

studying conditions in quarters. If a student is required to study, then 

the study conditions should be as best [as] they can [be] to enhance that. 

These were some things that resulted, I think, in many of the quarters 

improvements that took place at all the installations, to include Lackland.

The testing for AFSCs was developed at Lackland, as you know. 

Great groups of noncommissioned officers came and spent days and hours 

pouring over items that would eventually become test material. They were 

doing this in non-air conditioned facilities for audio capability, and it was 

just atrocious to try working under those conditions. These were some 

of the things that were ultimately improved, because you were there, and 

you were hearing the direct input. You spent time with basic trainees; you 

had a good feel for that program. You had a chance to visit OTS; you had a 

good feel for that program. You had an opportunity to see the difference 

in NCOs passing through the commissioning process and coming out as 

an officer, or those who had strictly an ROTC background going directly 

into a commissioning process and coming out as an officer, and there was a 

marked difference, because here was a guy, having had the enlisted side of 

the fence, now with both sides of the fence under his belt.

All right. Let’s talk about how you were elevated to 

the job of Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. 

How did you first hear about it, and what were the 

circumstances surrounding your being selected?

I was at Air Training Command as the senior enlisted advisor when 

announcement of the incumbent Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force’s 

tenure was coming to an end and that considerations were being made for 

his replacement.

After the names were all submitted to the command headquarters, 

they held a screening to come up with a command nominee or two in case 

there were two authorizations. Those were then submitted to Air Force. 

The total of those kinds of submissions were 33 in the year that I was under 

consideration. The next step was for those persons to convene at the Air 

Force Military Personnel Center at Randolph, and I was there, of course, 

on Randolph, so it was sort of a walk-across-the-street thing for me. The 

purpose of the Personnel Center was to eliminate that down to three 

finalists, and this was over the course of two days of interviews there.

I must say that when I was selected as one of the three finalists, I 

really began to realize what I was in from both a momentum and a magnitude 

standpoint, having seen 30 people eliminated in the process. Then the three 

finalists being submitted to Air Force were required to go to Washington 

to the Pentagon for interviews with the DCS/P [Deputy Chief of Staff, 

Personnel] who at that time was a tough, very demanding guy. I moved then 

to the Vice Chief of Staff and then, ultimately, an interview with the Chief 

of Staff, who talked to all three initially and then went back to the individual 

interviews and then made his selection.

88
The two competitors that I was with I knew well. I knew one of 

them from a previous association in a similar career area. This was Chief 

Conrad Stevens. Conrad was in the 6th Troop Carrier while I was in the 

4th, and we ended up, as a result of a storm, as transients in a transient 

barracks one night, sleeping above and below each other. The other was 

a guy named Jim Marlow, who had reached, I thought, the epitome of 

security police superintendent duties and first sergeant duties. He was 

just a prince of a guy and a good friend. Those were the two other finalists 

during my tenure.

I was, as a matter of the things I did as a senior advisor, over 

at Lackland, and I had brought in all of the first sergeants and many 

noncommissioned officers from one of our bases for a visit to the basic 

training center. We stayed in a recruit training and housing building. 

These guys hadn’t been in an open bay dormitory, let alone a dormitory, 

for years. They had no concept. They enjoyed it. We, at night, even did 

an old tight blanket card game that used to be the mark of the old days, 

and they enjoyed sleeping in the open bay bunks and a gang latrine. They 

had gotten up two mornings with the trainees. They were awakened in 

the middle of the morning with the trainees falling out to the response 

of a whistle and said, “Jesus Christ, these guys really moved.” They were 

surprised and pleased at how the basic trainees responded. I, as the senior 

advisor for the Training Command, was proud to display that. We had 

them go through facets of what they got academically, an overview of the 

training program by the people there at Lackland.

In the middle of all this, I got a phone call. I left it, and it was 

Gen. [William V.] McBride, who then was the commander of Training 

Command, who said, “I want you back over here right away. You have got 

to go to Washington. You have been selected as the Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force. You have to be in Washington tonight.” A helicopter 

came to the Wilford Hall helipad to pick me up. I had to leave my vehicle, 

which my wife got later. They had advised her: she had clothes ready. I 

landed at Randolph, and a car picked me up, whisked me by my house, 

and they had already told her what things I needed. She had those in a 

bag and threw them right in the car window. I didn’t even have time to get 

out and say “Hi” to her much, went back to the line to a T-39 [business 

jet], and on the way to Washington. I changed my uniform in a car from 

the Andrews [AFB, Maryland] flight line en route to the Shoreham Hotel. 

The official announcement was made at the AFA [Air Force Association] 

Outstanding Airmen of the Year dinner in the 1973 AFA Convention. 

Of course, I must say that was the fastest day of my life. I sound a little 

breathless now. I kind of relived that excitement, and that is literally what 

happened as a result of that.

I read recently where (this question) has created a 

great deal of psychological problems, not only for 

blacks but for all minorities, that the question always 

lingers in their minds, “Am I getting this because I 

really deserve it, or am I window-dressing?” Not only 

does it create problems for the minorities, but it will 

tend to demoralize the Anglo majority because they 

think somebody is getting something for nothing. So 

you see it from both ends.

Obviously one of the first things that came up following the initial 

selection was, “Do you think this happened because you were black? As 

rigorous as the competition was, my answer to that was, “No.” But then the 

follow-on question was, “How do you intend to do that without having it 

come out that way? How do you intend to do the job?” I addressed that, 

and as I recall . . . first off, I would be naive not to believe that that’s the 

assumption on the part of many people, but that I know for a fact there are 

three identifiable categories of people now that I have to deal with.

There is a category that, certainly, believes my selection was because 

of my race. Certainly, there is a category who do not believe that, and then 

thirdly, there is a category who don’t care but who say, “We’ll wait and see 

what this guy does.” The only thing I don’t know is how big either category 

is. So I categorically said, “I really now have to do the job and then let the 

people judge that.” At the end of what was considered the normal tenure 

of two years, as you recall, I was extended a year by Gen. Jones, which was 

unprecedented, and at the end of that year was again extended, which was 

certainly unprecedented, which gave me a total of four years in the job. I think 

at the end of the second year, most of the questions concerning the race issue 

and my selection had subsided in that new issues were on the horizon and 

[that] the continuity of my involvement in those was principally the reason 

for the extension. I think the Chief of Staff had that prerogative to do. He 

felt comfortable with my involvement with the kinds of things that were now 

coming forth—certainly the newness of women in the nontraditional jobs or 

roles. I understood that very well. More than that, the very great and grave 

difficulty as a new administration and some new directions set upon us.

89
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91
You were the first black to have ever held this 

position as Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. 

Did this put any initial strains on you, knowing this, 

when you first took the position?

It did. I knew there were people watching to see just what would 

happen. I knew there were people who felt now will come a flood of things 

for blacks. The time will be spent with blacks on visits to installations 

and that the whole thing will advance to the Chief of Staff, information 

that was more beneficial to blacks. All of those things were made. I had 

some anonymous letters and phone calls that so much as told me that. So, 

yes, they put some additional strains on me, a little of that. Places that I 

went where that was common knowledge, one of those being the Ebony 

Magazine interview. There were some questions surrounding that in a 

later visit to Johnson Publications in Chicago. I went there for an in-depth 

interview with their editors. Then, of course, the media was there, and I 

consented to an interview in which this was the foundation of questions 

as a black. I had to discount the fact that being black had anything to do 

with the selection or, in fact, my conduct of and in the job. It carried even 

a little larger stigma because I was the first in any of the services, period, 

and I answered some questions from, principally, uninformed people 

about the other branches. I had to limit my answers there. “Will they or 

are they going to appoint a black to one of their services?” And, hell, I had 

no way of knowing what qualifications were for it, not just because I knew 

they couldn’t do that, but where there were people qualified, I would think 

their opportunities were to go—so it did place considerable stigma and 

strain particularly for the first year and a half.

What do you consider to be the single most 

significant accomplishment that you had while 

serving as Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force?

I believe that to have been the solidification of the program of 

enlisted inclusion in the planning process. I think, if you recall, the 

assignments process took on some new meaning. I think these were all 

some things that fell out of that office, the ability to gear some things towards 

the senior noncommissioned officer force. They were in a series or in a 

package of items that were being worked on, and while there was not one, 

there was a series of things. I think, if you recall, there were some changes 

in the allocation of housing. There were some changes in the TOPCAP 

[Total Objective Plan for Career Airman Personnel] order of the day that 

allowed selective extension beyond 30 [years of service]. There were a 

series of things that took place that I would consider the most significant. 

So, those things that were contained in that package, I think, were the 

most significant thing—the advancements made for the enlisted force and, 

certainly, a locking in of the professional military education system at 

all levels.

While the Senior NCO Academy was certainly already in being, the 

plans for its further inclusion into the Air University complex [remained]. It 

is still intended, I would hope, to eventually move that from Gunter [AFB, 

Alabama] over to Maxwell [AFB, Alabama] and include it in the academic 

circle. From some standpoint, I hope, that is still in being. Those were some 

things that were even downstream that were included and, certainly, all the 

levels of PME.

So with those having been factors as they were, I think—there were 

some other things that were of a little different nature that were requirements 

for me to do, both under General Brown and General Jones, that I think 

resulted in my two extensions, which were unprecedented. These were 

some very delicate areas that had great bearing on how much and how fast 

the Air Force pursued some elements. These were the inclusion of women 

in nontraditional roles and some feedback to the chief.

Did you have complete access to the Chief of Staff 

anytime you needed it?

I had access when I needed it. Both of them—I must say this now. I 

am not able to speak, obviously, for my predecessors or successors in that 

regard, but the access to the Chief, the Vice Chief, the Assistant Vice Chief, 

and the DP [DCS/P], or the Air Staff for that matter, I considered really 

unbelievable initially. In working through the exec for the Chief’s time, you 

learned the best times to see him. It is important—and I don’t know whether 

anybody else discussed this with you, officer-wise, who had dealings with the 

Chief of Staff—each time you could see the Chief of Staff, conversationally, 

was not necessarily the best time to surface something you would like him 

to accept or buy. There is great meaning in that. If you were really trying to 

push or sell a program, just because you had access to him that day may not 

have been the time to present it. Often there were times to wait that were 

better than others in which to sell. There was often a need to try some things 

out on the Vice Chief and the Assistant Vice Chief before you went. These 

people were magnificent in providing that type of assistance and that kind 

of guidance in, “Today may not be the best day to sell that. Let me call you 

when the time is right.”

What do you consider your most unforgettable 

experience while you were in that position?

I consider the most unforgettable experience—well, there were 

several in that they were good and bad experiences. Certainly, the two 

extensions were most unforgettable. I think there was no way to put that 

down at all in any sense of priority. They were unprecedented, and they 

were an experience to have it said to you by the Chief of Staff, I plan to keep 

you around for another year, certainly was an unforgettable experience. In 

essence, I believe the opportunities to wholly represent the Air Force in 

testimony at the House and Senate Armed Services Committees had to be 

the epitome of experience. I think perhaps that same statement will embody 

the most difficult decision in how best to convince the Senate and House 

Armed Services Committees 

92
that there was genuine union interest. I think the validity of that testimony 

had a lot in it for what took place in a legislative way later on, in having 

commanders not deal with unions. I think those were some very critical 

times and probably some of the darker days that I remember when there was 

something akin to doldrums hanging over the Air Force enlisted element, 

with the feeling that there was nobody in house who could do anything for 

us—the secretary, the chief—there was just a complete loss of confidence. 

I think, in coming back in and talking about unions to the boss were some 

of the tougher times that I had, and how to be convincing in that in saying 

to him, when I knew he had done his best, and the conditions perpetuating 

it were beyond his control, that a lot of our people had interest in a union. 

I think that had to be some of the most difficult periods. It is tough to say, 

“Boss, they don’t believe you or the secretary or anybody can do that, and 

they want a union.”

We had very, very grave situations facing the Air Force, as about 

35 percent of its people were interested, seriously, in joining a union, 

because they saw nobody else able to help this erosion that was taking 

place. I testified before both the House and the Senate Armed Services 

Committees on the union issue. I testified before the House committee in 

conjunction with my counterparts from the other services, and I testified 

alone before the Senate committee as far as that was concerned, but along 

with General [Bernard W.] Rogers from the Army and a representative 

from the Navy, in that particular hearing, and Senator [John C.] Stennis 

[D–MS] and Congressman [Richard C.] White [D–TX] from El Paso 

were the chairs of the two committees, and each of them had the question, 

“Is there a bona fide and genuine interest by people wearing uniforms 

in unions?” And the answer to that was “Yes Sir, there is.” Then the 

follow-on question was, “If the nickel fell on the grass today, how many 

of our people would join the union?” The answer for me was, “About 

35 percent.”

Has this desire for a union abated any, or is it 

about the same?

I think, while you don’t hear it as much, it is simply because we 

have a provision to keep it from occurring. As you know, the legislative 

issue made it a constitutional point of view, and it got into the issue of 

constitutionality. You could not prohibit or preclude anyone from joining 

a union, but you can preclude a commander from bargaining with the 

union, so that defanged the union issue. Since there is no bargaining 

capability, why join? That is what sort of defanged the union issue. The 

legislation was passed that prohibited it for a commander to bargain with 

a union. He cannot do that.

Has the Community College of the Air Force been 

more helpful to Airmen entering civilian life?

In the long run, yes. It records and equates to civilian status those 

courses that are given a technical nature or, I guess from the beginning, 

from basic training, which has a significant portion of it dedicated to physical 

training, physical fitness. Physical conditioning is a scoreable school item. 

It is, therefore, given a mark and then equated to its civilian counterparts. It 

begins with that, and everything from that point forward is recorded pretty 

much automatically. For those people who believe it didn’t help them, 

myself included—although I always understood the program because it 

developed in ATC while I was there—the community college went back to 

my basic training and plucked out the physical conditioning aspect. All the 

tech schools have scoreable meaning. All I needed to do was provide them 

the completion certificates. I would say if it is too far back, it is of little value. 

My school being in a reciprocating aircraft and engine feature and today 

everything is jet, it would have little value of equation, but it does have the 

capability. I think where there are requirements for in-house educational 

standards, the community college serves that very useful purpose also. It is an 

encouragement to people on active duty to better themselves academically, 

which means much in their own career advancement inside.

Then of course, it is invaluable in a record that you can carry right 

on out to the civilian community with you. So, while it serves both sides of 

the fence, I think it has, in its long term, a profound effect in an outside use.

What was your feeling toward going to 

the all-volunteer force?

Initially, and I heard it from a different level, perhaps, than many 

people in this way. That was one of the advantages of the senior enlisted 

advisor duty in that major commanders, in preparation for putting that to 

their commands, were talking about that some time before it began. An allvolunteer force became a factor. As it was described and as it was provided 

for monetarily at its onset, it looked to be a workable solution. Early on, 

however, the dangers of what were the Moskos theory or Moskos philosophy 

about jobs or professions, et cetera, became a factor in, can you buy this 

kind of allegiance and alliance and have it whole, or do you, at best, create a 

job?5

 I think there was a danger of that early on. As a matter of fact, I think 

there was some discussion about that danger. In other words, is money all it 

is going to take to buy a good, strong military force?

The needs that were identified were being worked on right away—

the needs in housing, the needs in upgraded equipment on installations—

and as you know, all of this was taking place. Then all of a sudden, the money 

dried up and benefits began to disappear, the GI Bill being one of the bigger 

ones. It was just considered wholly unacceptable by military people that 

there was an interference with that, a breach of promise, so to speak, is how 

was interpreted, to be very blunt.

Then the other kinds of things that sort of fell by the wayside started 

us on the downhill decline. You couldn’t buy from the community as the 

economy had jobs going fairly well at one time. You couldn’t attract by 

the kind of money we offered people to come. As the economy changed, 

retention became the problem instead of recruiting.

93
Things that became socially acceptable conflicted with our inner 

workings of the system as much as disciplines were concerned, and the 

modification of our disciplinary process and the inclusion of some of 

the kinds of things, judicially, that took place had an impact on just the 

military scenario, period. Many commanders and many noncommissioned 

officers considered it a weakening of the process to allow certain things to 

happen without what had formerly been . . . just punishments for those 

things happening. I think we really didn’t approach that well until there 

was some look/see at the reports surfaced by the task force on military 

justice that had gone throughout all the services and rendered a report 

and then got those in some perspective. 

Unfortunately, the feelings generated by the kinds of things 

that report turned up paralleled a number of things that were going on 

in communities. So whichever way you turned, you had people from 

outside with those ideas; you had people inside with those ideas. So, we 

lost a little ground in that respect, trying to deal with one thing and really 

weakened another. 

Do you think a general revulsion to the Vietnam War 

helped bring this attitude on?

I’m sure it did. There were certainly some very hard feelings about 

our involvement in the war . . .

I think for those who look back over the picture that is presented 

in war and its aftermath saw, from the World War II perspective, the 

United States enter a war from a position of being way behind. We had 

to put together a force; we had to amass equipment and project it abroad, 

and we did that very well, and we did that with total unity—and I underscore 

that many times—total unity of the country. There was a common belief 

by everybody that this needed to be done, and the obvious results were 

victory and supremacy from World War II, and superiority for that matter. 

The tangible gains for the investment of money and lives were visible to 

everyone in this country. We occupied the Japanese properties, the island 

chains; we occupied Europe and were a world superiority. Nobody had 

any bad feelings about the kinds of things that happened other than the 

personal losses, of course, and the fact that there had had to be a war, 

but in that there was, we had won it. At some sacrifice, yes, but we had 

won it. Not only did we emerge from that victorious and supreme, but we 

emerged from it as a monopoly with the possession of an atomic weapon.

By the time Korea came, we still had great capability, and we fought 

the battle that we fought in Korea, and there was less understanding by both 

people in the military and out, first, for our involvement which started as a 

police action, but the fact that we could never unleash all of this power we 

had on a country like Korea. It was never understood why there were no 

tangible gains in it. At the end of Korea, there was merely the dividing line, 

the 38th parallel, that was there when we began, when the presumption 

was that we were going to help South Korea maintain its independence. 

So, there was some loss of credibility from the people who involved 

us in this.

By the time we got into Vietnam, here was still another situation 

whose origin was not clear to most people, yet a propelling into it and an 

escalation beyond belief and beyond time and still the restraint that held us 

from using the capability we had to deal with it. At the time it ended, here 

was still a dividing line and no tangible gain—great prisoners and war losses 

that are still unresolved today in terms of people who were or were not there. 

I think it was a little more than the American people could understand.

In the living rooms, I think the media, TV in particular, projecting 

this situation into the homes, and family discussions about the ridiculousness 

of how it was going on, drove a generation of kids who are now recruiting 

age or who were draft-card-burning age at that time. Our colleges looked at 

this on a political science sense and saw its fruitlessness. So, we had a lot of 

informed opinion in the rejection of that. It wasn’t arbitrary. It was a lot of 

informed opinion from college students and others. Then of course, there 

was the fleeing of people from the country. After the draft card burning, 

there was the evasion by going to other countries. Then the bitter wound 

was inflicted by pardoning all of those.

Those who went and sacrificed never could condone that pardon. 

That put a wound in the country that is a scar, still, today if it gets rubbed 

a little raw, depending on how or who talks about it. So here we are sitting 

on the brink of perhaps a Middle East involvement with oil as the issue, and 

the bigger question, while we don’t exploit the other resources we have. We 

give way to this socially acceptable thing of environmentalists in the country 

perhaps, stopping us from doing the mining and this and that because of 

over- environmental conditions, and yet we go to war over oil. They are 

asking the question, “Is it necessary?”

You saw the reaction to the initial need to register. Although the 

salvation of our military system at the moment is to know who and how many 

we can depend upon should the chips fall. I think there is a great need to get 

that all back in perspective, and I think that is really what underscored the 

great offsetting of the results of this just recent past presidential election. 

I think that was of the major contributing factors, along with a lot of other 

things that are going on in the country.

(Inflation) happened with the APRs [Airman 

Performance Report] as far as enlisted people were 

concerned. How would you address that problem, and 

what do we need to get around this sort of thing?

I think the APR system, as a system, changed from what I recall as 

the old form 75 and an oral board to a later form and some testing and then 

the eventual development of the Weighted Airman Promotion System. 

94
If the APR inflation record is just that, an inflation record, it’s 

probably due, in large part, to the absence of former PME opportunities 

and the professional approach to evaluation. I think, by and large, there 

was no chronology of information by NCOs—and I’m not saying they 

should keep a black book or anything on our people—but I think the 

kinds of things that constitute performance over the rating period rather 

than the most recent events, which generally turn out to be the case, are 

principally responsible for the inflationary process. Now to put that in 

being and in operation, and to go back, we had a little quota system at one 

time that impacted the APR, but only a certain number of the people could 

be at the high end of the scale. This tended to do some controlling, but it 

also tended to punish some people who were duly deserving of some high 

ratings. But I think it needed to have sort of a bite-the-bullet approach 

with supervisors and managers to really say, “I have to understand the 

system and have faith, because I make this guy or this gal a seven. It is 

not going to kill him or her professionally. The system is still going to 

recognize them.”

Obviously, promotion was the same thing. The promotion boards 

may have reversed that. They are looking at all nines rather than what 

tended to happen as a result of trying to take the inflation down. There 

was really a clean breakpoint to insert that. I think that clean breakpoint 

needs to be done and do an actual, honest evaluation. Now that I can look 

at that from another point of view, inflation is a problem in business and 

industry also, in the rating and merit process. What we have had to do 

is the semblance of a quota system, particularly where the mandatory 

or rather voluntary wage guidelines were instituted. We did this on an 

institutional or business-wide basis, and the guidelines were met across 

the board. The development of a merit system that allowed realistic 

approaches to evaluation may be the Air Force’s answer to this. It gives 

a starting point at which this true score and true evaluation creates no 

penalty for the individual being rated. The shadow of penalty is what has 

caused the inflationary thing to kind of continue. I think the system itself 

is good. I think it is enforcement where the emphasis needs to be placed. 

In other words, if we are tending to overinflate, then I think we have, by 

virtue of the PME exposures now, a professional way to address that. This 

goes back to my statement about senior noncommissioned officer and 

promotion being an opportunity to go to school as opposed to vice versa. 

We have turned around some things and allowed them to continue to aid 

and abet this inflation process. So, we really need to enforce what we have. 

I think we’ve got a damn good system. I just think it needs enforcing.

Being in this position as long as you were, did the 

pressures of the job start to get to you?

No. I have been asked that before. I think it is the kind of a job in 

which, if the pressures did, it would be noticeable by you and others right 

away. Noticeable by you in the sense of the physical effect by familiarity or 

a lock-in to a particular component of the system that’s being worked on 

to start trading off or exchanging something in one system for something 

you would like in another system. There were the opportunities, I think, 

for that to happen, but where it would shortchange anybody in either element 

of the field, there was certainly a need not to do that. I thought about what 

impacts, perhaps, that would have, but the whole thing moved fast enough 

that that never occurred, and I had no ill effects from it whatsoever.

What about your family? You were traveling 

extensively.

My family, fortunately due to Marie’s strength, stayed cohesive, and 

they stayed devoted and dependable. I didn’t have to disassociate myself 

with my job to tend to family matters. I have to largely thank her for that, 

because the children understood the need to travel, and they had been sort 

of conditioned and geared to that. I must go back and thank my tour of duty 

as the Air Training Command senior advisor for that conditioning. I even go 

back to Laughlin and do it there. Though I was never away from the base for 

any longer than a day’s visit somewhere else, the time away from the house 

in the job was a beginning. So, there was some conditioning all the way. It 

probably even goes back further than that to our marriage.

When I married Marie, I was a flight engineer. As I was seeing her, I 

explained to her what a flight engineer did and was. So, she was accustomed 

to the fact that I would fly this weekend and not be home, and she didn’t see 

me for a week or two. It was an understanding right from the beginning. It 

never really bothered her. We didn’t have any adjustment. It wasn’t like I 

was home all the while, and then all of a sudden, I left. This made her able to 

endure my period overseas well and without difficulty. She just carried that 

all the way through. She was no stranger to my being gone and, therefore, 

had no adjustments to make. She was quite able to handle it.

How did you meet your wife, by the way?

We were hometown. She was in school with me. Her family and my 

family knew each other. She is a year or two older. She was a class ahead of 

me. When I came back from Japan, as a matter of fact, they had moved to 

within a block of where we were. Her sister owned a restaurant, and I went 

there to eat while I was home on vacation. This is when I really got to know 

her. I really didn’t know her while I was in school. I knew her, but her now 

being a little older and seeing some things, there was some innate qualities 

about her, some strengths, that still persists today.

One of those was she was a direct counter for everything, and I 

tended to appreciate that somehow. She was a good balance for everything. 

She always had this level thinking and just as quiet and calm as she has done 

this morning. She doesn’t mind working; she was working then, and she is 

still working today. We’ve raised our family, and she has worked through that 

except for her pregnancies—and for the love of working. I think the credit 

for those things certainly in a marriage goes to her. My mother encouraging 

me to finish school and then her being encouraging in all the other kinds of 

other aspirations that I’ve had. She has always been there to lean on. She’s 

been that way with the children.

95
Has that been a problem, trying to raise a family 

with all the frequent moves?

No. As a matter of fact, that’s a frequently asked question. It is 

one that my sister and I had a good opportunity to deliberate, the one that 

taught school. She doesn’t have any children. She dealt with children in 

school. She has none of her own, though she was married. I want to make a 

point of that. I would, in fact, ask military families to look very carefully at 

their conditions in this regard. In what are called the formative years, these 

are the years that children learn good or bad habits quickly and easily, at 

home and away, the places of assignment are often critical. Now if you live 

in an area—and I’ll use Washington, DC, as an area—if you live exposed to 

Washington or New York, and you are not eligible for on-base housing, 

it plunges your family right in the midst of a very tough set of conditions 

for formative years.

I can’t thank the Air Force enough for however my assignments 

picture came out. During the formative years for our children, we were 

in places like Limestone, Maine [laughter]. Too damn cold to get out and 

get into anything, and if you did, there was nothing to get into but potato 

fields and woods. Some people found that a drudgery; some despised it 

there, and it bothered some people even mentally. We found it a great 

thing in reading and hearing the stories about kids in other cities, tilted off 

into the drug thing or what have you at very early ages, to find that, at that 

time anyway, was virtually void of that kind of problem.

In speaking of your duties as a senior enlisted 

advisor, your wife appeared to have adapted pretty 

well to the military life, but as an advisor, you 

undoubtedly saw many cases where wives never 

did adapt.

That’s true. 

Did this pose a special problem for you as an advisor?

Not really. It posed a challenge more than a problem in trying 

to create a place of involvement for many wives. I’d like to explain that, 

because the makeup of the different installations that the Air Force has 

lends itself to that easily or makes it very difficult. Obviously, the hub of 

operations is the base itself, and the things that go on there are much more 

accessible to the people who live right on the installation, to be able to see 

visibly and take advantage of. This is where the functions of dining-ins, 

or -outs for that matter, that included the wives allowed them to come. 

Where there was sufficient housing, you had a larger group of people 

interested in involvement in that. Where your eligible grade NCOs, now 

these are wives who are eligible for membership in the NCO club, lived 

by necessity rather than by choice off the installation and were struggling 

with the rigors of economy in a base area—Washington, DC, is a perfect 

example of that.

With as many military people as there were at Andrews [AFB, 

Maryland] and Bolling [AFB, Washington, DC] and the insufficient housing 

on both until they built new housing, and I’m still not sure it satisfies the 

whole need, you know, people were living in Upper Marlboro [Maryland]. 

They were living out in Indian Head; they were living in Forest Hills or 

downtown. We lived downtown the first time we were there, and many of 

the things that were on the base at night, you know, I just never went back 

to. Marie’s involvement at that time was probably like a lot of other wives. 

She had no desire. Well, after that’s gone so long, they just withdraw.

It was knowing how that worked that enabled me to accept it as 

a challenge rather than a problem and then be able to kind of help in that 

regard. You have to get the wives involved in working on that. The wife being 

attuned to the husband’s needs is key to his success. If she is not supportive 

of the efforts he does—this doesn’t mean she has to go to everything, but 

she has to be willing to understand his need to be out there at night at a 

meeting, or why it is necessary to work late, or why it is necessary to go over 

to Airman So- and-So’s and help him. You know, who the hell is he? As 

soon as they can understand that, the guy has a lot freer hand. That was what 

I used to encourage, that necessity to be a community, although you were 

separated by the geographies of on- and off-base conditions. Once many 

guys get home in the evening, they never get back to anything. It is an excuse; 

it’s a crutch.

According to your biography, you had 28 years of 

active Air Force service. Couldn’t you have 

served longer?

I could have. I could have gone to 30, but anything following what 

I have described would have been anticlimactic. I thought that was a good 

point to separate and break, and I did. I have no regrets in having done that. 

I think there would not have been a place I could have gone, though I would 

certainly have had a choice of places to go.

Somehow, that would have been very easy, having worked for the 

chief, to get any assignment that you wanted, within reason. I had identified 

some that, perhaps, I would have liked to have had if such were to be the 

case. As decision time came, it was the proper time to separate. Anything 

else would have been of no moment compared to that tenure.

96
97
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Robert D. Gaylor

August 1, 1977 - July 31, 1979

When Robert D. Gaylor arrived 

at basic training in 1948, he was 

introduced to a new world, one he says 

made him feel “like a kid at Christmas.” 

He was born on May 8, 1930 and raised 

in two small towns in Indiana, the second 

of eight children. The Air Force was an 

opportunity to get out of town, travel, 

and learn new skills. He quickly fell in 

love with his new life and soon knew the 

Air Force would be a lifelong adventure.

Throughout his career, Gaylor 

experienced many unexpected twists 

and turns. He served as a security police 

member, a military training instructor 

(MTI), and an academy instructor and 

served tours in Korea, Japan, Thailand, 

and Germany. His excitement for the 

unknown allowed him to look at each twist 

and turn as a new adventure, choosing to 

stick to his mantra of “Forward, March” 

rather than fight against the opportunity. 

He developed a passion for leadership 

and committed the latter part of his 

career to sharing what he knew with as 

many Airmen as possible.

In 1977 Gen. David C. Jones, 

chief of staff of the Air Force, selected 

Gaylor to serve as the 5th Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force. In two years 

Gaylor traveled extensively, listening 

to Airmen and tackling issues such as 

equal travel benefits for enlisted Airmen, 

maternity uniforms for female Airmen, 

and an ongoing institutional drug and 

alcohol problem. He retired in 1979 but 

has continued to stay very close to the Air 

Force. Today he regularly visits Airmen, 

sharing his passion for both leadership 

and the Air Force.

Gaylor sat down for an interview 

in August 2015 to reflect on his 

experience after more than 68 years 

in or near the Air Force. During the 

interview, he shared his memories of an 

Air Force establishing itself as a separate 

service, his time as the senior training 

noncommissioned officer (NCO) of a 

Women in the Air Force (WAF) training 

squadron, and his passion for leadership. 

The following are edited excerpts from 

the conversation.

98
Chief, first of all, thank you for doing this. We just 

want to start by taking you all the way back to 1948 

when you came into the Air Force and arrived at basic 

training. What were your impressions when you first 

joined the Air Force?

I was born in Bellevue, Iowa, population 2,000. When I was 

nine we moved to Rossville, Indiana. The sign outside the town said 626 

people. When I was 13, we moved to Mulberry 10 miles away, population 

880. There was no television then. Whatever we knew we read in the 

paper or radio, so I was very naïve and I didn’t have any knowledge about 

the world other than my own world.

So when I joined the Air Force it was with great excitement. I 

was like a kid at Christmas. Everything was a new experience. I had never 

ridden a train. I rode a train three days to Lackland, everything was fun, 

exciting. I was a wide-eyed hick from the sticks. Really. I had never, ever 

talked to a black person, an Asian person, probably not even a Catholic . 

. . so my background and knowledge level was very minimal. Fortunately, 

I had a great attitude. I wanted to experience things I had not, so I was so 

excited, and why not?

What was that experience like for you—how many 

weeks was basic training then?

Basic training was 13 weeks. We were met at the train station in 

San Antonio [Texas]. We boarded a bus, and first thing we were told was 

to shut up. So we shut up and rode to Lackland [AFB, Texas]. It was fairly 

early in the morning, and we were taken to a big building. There was a 

yellow line and the “yeller-ater,” the guy yelling at us said, “Follow the 

yellow line, and whatever happens, happens.” All I know is that I followed 

the line. I took off all my clothes, got a haircut in the nude in a barber chair, 

got into the shower, continued down the line, got two shots in my arm, 

a New Testament Bible, and an issue of clothing. They didn’t measure. 

“What size are you?” Medium. And I had a duffel bag. “Fill the bag, go in 

that room, and sit on your duffel bag and shut up.”

All of that happened within maybe an hour and a half. So I’m in a 

one-piece fatigue uniform, cap down over my eyes, and I shut up and sat 

there. I didn’t know anything. There were 60 of us new Airmen.

We boarded a bus and rode to a single-story barracks. They 

broke us into two 30-man groups, marched us into the barracks and I was 

assigned an upper bunk. All of that happened in less than an hour.

Then a little skinny three-striper came in and said, “My name is 

Justin, and if any of you feel you can whip me, come on up.” And I thought, 

well, I’m not going up there because he may be a black belt expert or 

something. There were guys bigger than me and they didn’t move. Then he 

said, “Now we know who’s in charge, don’t we? You had your chance. From 

now on, you will do what I say.” That was good enough for me, wow. I was in 

scouting, but it wasn’t that demanding.

It was all fast-paced, no minorities in my flight. There were 60 of us, 

Flight 3583, living in two barracks. The latrine was three buildings down, 

you went down the sidewalk with your ditty bag and your towel over your 

shoulder in your underwear. It was so new. Wow!

We had a “G.I. party.” I didn’t know whether that was cookies or 

what. It turned out to be scrub brushes. We cleaned the floor on hands and 

knees. The discipline was the best thing that ever happened to me.

Awesome. After basic training you received your job. 

Did they offer you jobs during basic training? From 

what I understand, you were initially disappointed with 

the choices you had.

Believe it or not, we left Lackland not knowing our career field. 

They marched us into a room at Lackland and said, “Here is your base 

assignment. They’ll decide how to use you when you arrive.” They called 

five of us for Waco Air Base, Waco, Texas. On 10 December 1948, I left 

Lackland a veteran of 13-weeks’ service. Seventy-two dollars pay a month, 

had an Army PFC [private first class] stripe on my arm. I couldn’t wait to 

go on leave to Indiana and show off my uniform. I rode the train all the way 

back home, was home nine days and then left 22 December, rode the train 

back to Waco.

We were advised at Lackland to report to personnel upon arrival. 

Everything I owned was in my duffel bag. I was in my Army Air Force 

uniform we had been issued. I reported to personnel and a corporal said, 

“My job is to find you an assignment.” He said, “You’re lucky, I have three 

choices and you get to pick.” Apparently not everyone got choices. He said, 

“You can be a cook, firefighter, or military policeman.” I had seen World 

War II movies where control tower, “land on runway so-and-so.” So I had 

visions of something glamorous and romantic and “Air Force-y.” I must 

have hesitated because I remember he said, “I don’t have all day, pick one or 

I’ll pick one for you.” He turned hostile within seconds. Based on that I said, 

“I’ll take military police.”

He wrote a name and a building number on a piece of paper, said 

“Report to this name, this number. Next.” He was through with me in about 

a minute. I was classified in the cops. I drug my duffle bag across the parade 

field looking for building whatever and walked in and said, “Here I am.” 

Who are you? “I’m PFC Robert D. Gaylor.” Okay. You’re now a cop. I’ll 

take you over to the barracks and assign you a bunk.

99
Things happened so quickly and without any sophistication whatso-ever. That was 23 December. On 25 December, Christmas morning, 

from one o’clock to five o’clock in the morning I guarded the finance 

building armed with a 30-caliber carbine, scared to death. No training. 

All I knew was my general orders. I’m guarding the finance building with 

a carbine, wondering, “How did I get here? What am I doing?” That was 

the beginning. Within a month I was working the main gate. No training.

No tech school?

No tech school at first. In May of ’49, six months after arrival, the 

first sergeant called me in and said, “Gaylor, you appear rather motivated. 

We have a quota for MP [military police] school at Camp Gordon, Georgia, 

and we’ve picked you.” I rode a bus from Waco, Texas, to Augusta, 

Georgia, through the Deep South in May of ’49. I had never seen a 

colored water fountain, colored eat here, colored restroom, colored sit in 

the back of the bus . . . I had never seen that. That was all new to me. I was 

wide-eyed, but I had always wanted to meet people from other cultures, 

so in one way it was a positive experience, and in another way it was very 

confusing. I couldn’t—if you had asked me why it was that way, I could not 

have explained. Apparently that’s the way it was.

What was the rank structure and promotion 

like Then?

In April of ’49, I’d been in the Air Force eight months and was 

promoted to corporal. In those days the commander apparently had a desk 

full of stripes, and if he decided, he could promote you.

When I joined there were three choices: three-year enlistment, 

one-year enlistment with a five-year Reserve obligation, or an indefinite 

enlistment. You could sign up for indefinite, meaning that you could say 

I’ve had enough at any time, or the Air Force could say we’ve had enough 

of you. The majority of the cops in my unit were one year active, five-year 

Reserve, and they razzed the heck out of me. “Hey, Lifer.” I was called 

Lifer when I had eight-months’ service because those guys—basic training, 

about nine months at Waco, and back to Pittsburgh or wherever.

The laugh turned out to be on them because in 1950, when the 

Korean conflict broke out, the Reserves were recalled, and a lot of those 

guys ended up in Korea, whereas I didn’t go until later. So at the time they 

thought, I’ll do my year, avoid the draft, go back five years Reserve. So I 

think the reason I got picked for MP school is because they weren’t going 

to pick the guy who was going to be there for seven, eight, nine months 

where as I was on a three-year enlistment.

My pay as a corporal went from $72 to $80. We reported for pay, 

stood in line, signed the payroll, went down the pay line—maybe a dollar 

to the Red Cross, two dollars for GI laundry. By the time you got to the 

end of the line, you had maybe $64, all mine. The first sergeant would say, 

“Okay, get over to the PX [post exchange], buy your necessities so you 

don’t run out.” It’s a great memory.

I lived in an open bay barracks where you knew everything 

everybody had, said, did. You’d go in the shower, come back, and maybe 

your watch would be gone from your bed. There was that downside, but, call 

me crazy, I found it exciting. I might have been the easiest Airman anyone 

ever supervised. I never complained. I thought everything was great—Clean 

the barracks, “Oh, boy, something to do.” I was into baseball and softball. I 

always wanted someone to play catch or someone to hit fly balls to me.

One didn’t go anywhere. There were only four cars in my whole 

squadron at Waco. The first sergeant ran a survey, how many of the cops 

in our squadron had a high school diploma? I think it came out around 16 

percent. So, “You’re one of those guys with a high school diploma. Oh, look 

at you.” That was really something! In fairness to those who did not, they 

left high school to go fight the war, and so you can’t fault them. Many of 

them went on to get their GED [general education diploma], and many of 

them went through life with an eighth grade education—so the education 

level was quite low. I don’t remember any college graduates.

That was during the beginning stages of our Air Force 

as a separate service. Can you comment on how that 

transition went, and how we separated ourselves 

from the Army?

I wore two sets of collar brass, US and propellers. We had a [Gen 

Henry] Hap Arnold patch. We sewed it on our sleeve. Back then there 

were hash marks indicating years of service, and a bar indicating overseas 

service. I didn’t have those. I thought, “Oh, he’s been overseas, and he’s 

been in years.” I think the hash marks were three years each. I didn’t have 

any ribbons. Now I see Airmen with a rack of 12 ribbons and three stripes 

on their arm. My first ribbon was the Army Good Conduct Medal, and 

I didn’t get that until I’d been in two, three years. I had one little ribbon. 

Then came a marksmanship ribbon, and I had two. They changed longevity 

from a hash mark to a ribbon—the blue ribbon. Eventually I had with five-

, six-years’ service, three ribbons: Marksmanship, Army Good Conduct, 

and Longevity. You didn’t get many ribbons then; so there is a tremendous 

difference in ribbons.

What was your experience with segregation, and the 

end of that, which happened around that same time?

I was a cop, so I drove around Waco Air Base on base patrol, and 

over by Gate 2 lived the black Airmen. They had their own dining hall; they 

had their own vehicles. But because I was a cop, I’d pull up beside them 

and just talk. So I knew Tom Farmer and Cliff Schaefer, but they lived over 

by Gate 2. There were five barracks. They had their own first sergeant, 

Sergeant Jackson.

100
In July of ’49, the President Truman decision was enacted.1

Segregation was over. I had no problem with that. “It’s about time.” I can 

still see in my mind a two-and-a-half-ton truck backing up to the barracks 

steps, and here they came, clothes hanger, foot locker, Cliff Schaefer, 

Tom Farmer, Broussard, Carr, Townsend, I knew them. “Hey, good to 

see you, good to see you, your bunk’s over there.” Within 15 minutes 

we were integrated. Eight black cops moved in, and, “Okay, integration 

has happened.”

You know barracks rumors—the rumor was, if you find in your 

heart that you cannot live with a member of the other race, you simply go 

to the orderly room and announce it and you can be released from the Air 

Force. So that was a rumor. Captain Griffis put a stop to that. He called us 

all together and said, “The first one of you that causes a problem, you’ll 

be court-martialed.” That put a stop to the barracks rumor, and we had no 

choice but to try and work it.

I’m sure there were some scuffles, but there were some scuffles 

between the white guys before the blacks moved in. I had no problem with 

it. None. I thought, what took so long? Why not sooner?

What was interesting, in the barracks, two things happened when 

the blacks moved in. One, the music changed. For the first time, I heard 

Count Basie, Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Billy Eckstine. I’d never 

heard of them. I enjoyed Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, Bing Crosby, 

Frank Sinatra. The music changed. I heard music I had never heard. And, 

how do I say this delicately, the smell of the barracks changed in a positive 

way. The black Airmen used Noxzema a lot, and you could smell that. 

I didn’t know why until I found out later it was the ingrown hairs, and 

the Noxzema provided a cooling effect. That was never explained to us. 

I didn’t understand that, and I didn’t ask. In ’49 and ’50, those things 

I remember. The music and the—whatever, drugstore smells, different 

hair pomade, odors I had not smelled. I had no problem with that. I was 

a happy guy.

I loved being a cop. One time, Provost Sergeant Howard came 

in the barracks. He said, “I’m looking for four permanent gate guards. 

The four of you will be the only four who work the gate. Eight hours on, 

24 off; a day shift, off 24 hours; a swing shift, off 24 hours; a mid-shift. If 

you’re interested, knock on my door,” and he left. My buddy said, “You 

don’t want to do that, Bob. You have to be sharp, you have to shine your 

boots.” And I said, “If I’m going to be a cop, I want to be top of the line.” 

So I went and knocked on the door. For about a year, I worked the main 

gate. I was working when they changed the name of the base from Waco 

Air Force Base to James Connally, a lieutenant colonel from Waco killed 

during World War II. I opened the door for Secretary of the Air Force 

[William “Stuart”] Symington when they drove him up to the gate for 

the ceremony. Wow!

You know, that’s a great story because I remember how I felt. I 

called my mom. “Mom, I opened his door”—even now, when an Airman 

asks me to pose for a picture I never, ever say no, because I remember. 

That’s a great message, never forget how you felt. Never forget where you 

came from. I remember opening the door for the secretary and feeling that 

I was the greatest cop on Earth. I’ve never forgotten where I came from and 

what it was like back when I was a young Airman.

Did you know you wanted to serve a full career then?

I was a cop, and I went home to Indiana on leave twice. One thing 

I learned, 30 days away from my Air Force was too long. I was ready to go 

back to camp after about five days. So I promised myself I would never take 

more than a 10-day leave. I never did, ever, because it was too long to be 

gone from the Air Force.

Okay, so three-year enlistment, I was coming up on my three years 

and beginning to think, “Do I want to stay in, get out? What do I want to 

do?” North Korea invaded South Korea in the summer of 1950, and the 

Air Force world changed. We were getting ready to go blue. I had worn 

OD [olive drab] and khakis and one-piece fatigues.2

 I was beginning to see 

two-piece fatigues, blue uniforms. I was beginning to see the removal of the 

brass, the oxidized brass, the belt buckles were changing, and I thought this 

is pretty exciting.

There was no Clothing Sales. You got your clothes from squadron 

supply. If you ripped your khaki shirt, you took it down to supply; the 

specialist would reach over the counter and hand you a replacement. When 

it was time to go blue, the supply sergeant called us in individually, measured 

us and ordered our issues. So we didn’t all get blues at the same time. Some 

of my buddies got their issue and I was angry. I said, “Oh, they got the blue 

uniform,” and so I waited for my issue to come in and then got to go blue. 

That was in the fall of ’50, so it took about three years for the Air Force to 

become the Air Force. You can’t just change your clothing overnight. They 

started at basic training, issuing to the new Airmen. Those out in the field 

got ours when available. Clothing Sales opened in 1953 maybe, when they 

started giving us an allowance to buy our clothes and stopped issuing them 

out of supply.

Is that when the ranks changed as well? 

The first Air Force rank I wore was staff sergeant. I was a PFC, 

corporal, buck sergeant. I made buck sergeant in nine months. I got back 

from MP school in ’49, and they promoted me. I had been in less than a 

year, and I had three stripes. I made staff in two years, three months. 

December 13, 1950, I sewed on staff. And I hadn’t even completed my first 

three-year enlistment.

When the Korean War broke out, at first it was like, “Where’s 

Korea?” No big deal. The Reserves and the Guard initially fought most of the 

war, so it didn’t really affect me that much until my three-year enlistment was 

up. In the summer of 1951, my three years was up, and I was a staff sergeant. 

Twenty-one years old, loving the Air Force, and I went to Personnel. 

101
The guy said, “You got two choices: reenlist or we’ll extend you.” 

And I said, “For how long would you extend me?” He said, “Well, how 

should I know? Until the war is over.” And I thought, well it’s three years 

or until the war’s over; it might be 10 years. So I reenlisted for three more. 

Finance counted out, in my hand, seven 20s and a 10— $150 bonus. I 

had never ever seen that much money in my life. I had seven 20s and a 

10 in my hand, and I went, “Wow, this is great.” Then I went downtown 

and bought a car—my first car—a ’39 Chevy. So I had a car and suddenly 

everybody was, “Hey, Bob, when are we going to town?” [Laughter]

I want to go back to when you were talking about the 

blue uniforms and the ranks changing. Did that help 

Airmen feel like, hey, we are part of a separate 

Air Force?

You know, it was so gradual. Let’s pretend that everybody had put 

on the rank and new blue uniform all at once, it would have been, wow. But 

because it was so incremental and spread out, I’m not sure anyone noticed 

it. There was a base in San Marcos [Texas] called Gary AFB—closed years 

ago.3

 I went to visit two of my buddies there, and they were wearing the 

new chevron; I had never seen it. “Ooh, look at that.” And I was still 

wearing the buck sergeant stripe. So, it took, oh, gosh, six months to two 

years to get everybody clothed and striped. So, it was so incremental I’m 

not sure there was any great fanfare.

I’ll also tell you there was no Air Force Times. There was a 

monthly commander’s call where the commander would get up, “All right, 

listen up.” He would brief us the latest policies, “Okay, thank you.” So, 

the information chain was minimal. And who cared? I didn’t care what was 

going on at a MAJCOM [major command] or the Pentagon. I could care 

less. My world was this: softball, being a cop, eating a piece of chicken, 

going to the club, getting a beer. That was the difference. You saw the 

same people at chapel, at the club, and playing softball. And on Friday 

night they didn’t split in a million directions, everybody stayed on base.

Life was simpler, less complicated, and, therefore, I was not 

aware, nor did I care. And if we got some unusual decision we’d say, some 

idiot up above—for example, some general decided they didn’t like to see 

a T-shirt above your shirt; so, we had to all buy V-neck T-shirts so the 

T-shirt didn’t show. That was about ’54 or ’55. You had to throw away all 

your T-shirts and buy V-neck. Somebody decided that every car on base 

should have a red reflective tape across your rear bumper, or you couldn’t 

register your car on base. So there were these decisions, but when they 

were made you never knew. You would just say, “Who is the idiot that 

did that,” and you’d go on about your business. There was no, “I think 

I’ll e-mail the chief of staff or write to the Air Force Times.” [Laughter] 

Whatever happened in your life, you just saluted smartly and went 

about your business.

You talked about integration and Letter 35-3. 

How did the leadership respond?

When Capt. Griffis said, “The first one that causes problems would 

be court-martialed,” he got my attention. I guess I was so naïve I thought 

that America suddenly just flipped a button and we all began singing 

Getting to Know You. But, of course, it didn’t happen that way. All I had 

to do was go into Waco and see the ugly segregation. The Air Force was 

a step ahead. On base, if you stood up and said something derogatory, 

you’d probably be in trouble. Off base it still was rampant. It took many, 

many years, into the ’60s—Dr. [Martin Luther] King and others. The 

Air Force did it with an edict: You will live together. The social climate 

took many years.

Women also began joining the Air Force in the late ’40s. 

I know you had a unique experience in your career when 

you were an instructor for a basic training squadron 

of women. Can you tell me about that?

WAF.4 They were WAF, Women in the Air Force. I came out 

of Korea in 1957 with orders for Lackland. I had told the clerk in Korea 

I wanted to go to Lackland, and he said he could guarantee that. I said, 

“How?” He said, “Just trust me.”

So I got to Lackland and I went to the cop squadron to sign in, and the 

first sergeant said, “I don’t show Gaylor coming; I’m not sure you’re coming 

in here. I’ll bet you’re going to teach at the air police school.” He gave me 

directions, and I drove across Lackland thinking I’m going to be an air police 

instructor. I got over there, and the guy said, “I don’t show you coming in.” 

Now, I’m confused. He said, “Let me see your orders.” And then he said, 

“Look, after your name on your orders there’s a capital T in parentheses.” I 

had seen that in Korea, “What does it mean?” He said, “You’re going to be a 

TI [training instructor].” I asked, “What’s a TI?” He said, “A basic training 

instructor.” I said, “How did that happen?” He said, “You volunteered.” 

Johnson volunteered me to be a MTI, knowing I wanted to go to Lackland. 

I didn’t know it. So, I was now a TI, and because of my positive attitude, 

I said, “Forward, March.” You know, some guys might say, “How do I 

get out of it, who do I have to talk to? I’m blind in one eye.” I said, 

“Forward, March.”

I became a TI in 3709, all male squadron. I was a street TI, a master 

sergeant marching troops down the street. It was the best thing that ever 

happened. Fortunately, I had a senior Airman who knew what he was doing, 

or I’d been lost. I did Flight 200 and Flight 66. I put two flights through, 

and they moved me to Area NCO.

102
I was in 3709 two years, and the commander called me and said, 

“You’ve been nominated to be the senior training NCO in the WAF basic 

training.” I knew the girls were up there on the far corner of the base, and 

other than that I saw them march in parades. I knew nothing else about 

them. He said, “No promotion goes with it. It’s just a higher job than you 

have now.” I’ve always been one to believe if it’s a higher position you 

better take it; you know? I had to go for an interview, and my wife had to 

go because I’d be there with all those women.

So Selma and I went for an interview. This was the fall of 1959, 

and I was being interviewed by three females. I’d never spoken with one, 

I don’t think. Many bases didn’t have any, because they didn’t have dorms 

for them. As far as I know, most women were at Travis [AFB, California] 

or Westover [AFB, Massachusetts]. They were flight attendants or flight 

nurses or medical. They interviewed me, and I apparently impressed 

them; they hired me. I became senior training NCO for the 3743rd 

WAF basic training squadron—Bob and his 400 women. And it was 

all new to me.

One thing I found out was how quickly the young ladies learned. 

They seemed to grasp stuff quicker. There were no left-feet marchers, like 

in the male squadron where there were some guys you could never get in 

step. I used to march with the ladies in parades with a shorter pace, instead 

of 30-inch it was about 28-inch, it was just right for me. They learned 

quickly, and they were motivated and wanted to serve.

Maj. McAmis, the commander, said to me one day, “I’m having a 

consultant from Braniff Airlines come in to teach posture and grooming 

techniques to the instructors so they can teach it to the trainees. I’d like 

you to sit in so that you can appreciate the training we’re giving.” I sat 

through three days of training on how to apply my makeup, how to select 

my wardrobe, how to fix my hair, how to stand. I would go home and my 

wife would say, “What did you learn today?” “Well, let me show you how 

to stand graciously.” 

The female TI’s were so motivated, but you didn’t get away with 

anything. They’d get in your face in a minute.

For two years I was the WAF senior training NCO. There were 

seven career fields female Airmen could be used in, that was it. We could 

train 8 flights of 40 each. That meant eight times 40, 320 Airmen. They 

could only go to certain bases in 1960–61.

Okay, fast forward to 1970. It became obvious we had to bring in 

more women. The draft ended; retention was low. What do we do? Let’s 

bring in more women. Well, there was a lot of dissension: “I’m not working 

for a woman; I don’t want women working for me.” I can remember many 

times I would say, “Hey, big mouth, let me tell you something. They learn 

very quickly, they want to serve, they are highly motivated; I suggest you 

shut up and give them a chance.” I said that many times in ’70, ’71. My 

basic training experience helped me smooth the integration of more women 

into the force. We were about four percent; in ’74 we went to seven percent. 

We opened up cops, maintenance, career fields, and I was out there 

saying, “Yay!”

Now we’re up to about 1975–76, and I was at a meeting and 

somebody said, “You know what, we’re losing a lot of talent. The women 

are coming in, we’re training them at Keesler [AFB, Mississippi], Sheppard 

[AFB, Texas]. We’re promoting them to senior Airman, staff sergeant, 

technical sergeant. They get married, they get pregnant, and then leave the 

Air Force. We’re losing all that talent.” “What are you suggesting? That we 

allow them to stay in? You’ve got to be kidding. You’ve got to have lost your 

head. A pregnant Airman? An Airman with child?”

“Uh, yeah. [Laughter] Why not? Let’s give it a try.” So initially it 

was by waiver only. You had to ask for a waiver.

Now we’re up to about ’77. I went out and about all over the Air 

Force. I’d go in an office and there was a lady in civilian clothes, “Good 

afternoon, Chief.” I asked, “You’re a civilian employee?” “No, I’m a tech 

sergeant.” “Are you on leave?” “No.” Well, she would stand up and the 

pregnancy was apparent. This was in ’76, ’77. I went back to the Pentagon 

and said, “There was a bit of confusion.” “What are you suggesting?” 

“Not sure, maybe a maternity uniform.” “You’ve got to be kidding . . . 

a maternity uniform?”

I was on the uniform board, and we met and we had Wright Patterson 

AFB [Ohio] make up a prototype maternity uniform. We started with a 

winter uniform only, and they gave the board a skirt that had the U-shape. 

We passed that around and some members didn’t want to touch it, like a hot 

potato. A female general was chairman of the board. She asked, “Members 

of the board, what is your recommendation?” Seemed to me to be time. If 

we’re going to allow them to stay in, we needed to clothe them. We started 

with the winter uniform. The work uniform, ABUs [Airman battle uniform] 

or whatever they were called then, came later. We started with the blue 

uniform and gradually, incrementally, all items came. I look back now and 

my decision was sort of, “seems to me to be about time.” Now when I look 

back I think, wow, that was a monumental decision.

What is interesting, in my travels now in this century, I tell this 

story, and female Airmen ask, “You mean there hasn’t always been maternity 

uniforms?” I say, “There hasn’t always been maternity.” We’re talking just 

30 years. It’s part of the Air Force evolution.

103
What was the general response from Airmen as the 

role of women expanded?

Let’s pretend that you’re an Airman who doesn’t go along with 

that. We’d say to you, “Simply live with it or get out.” In my case, my 

attitude was invariably, it must be time. Looks to me like a necessary 

transition. There is no question we were influenced greatly by societal 

activity. Whatever is going on out there usually carries over into the 

military. The military is a mirror reflection of society, and to go against 

it is somewhat futile. Let’s suggest I had sat at the meeting and said “I 

don’t agree with keeping women in the Air Force, I definitely don’t agree 

with maternity uniforms.” They’d have probably said “And we don’t agree 

with your disagreement.” In my case it was to support the decisions and to 

explain the need and reason for change.

I would stand in front of Airmen in a maintenance hangar and one 

would ask, “Why are you placing women in the maintenance field? I’m not 

carrying their 55-pound toolbox.” I answered, “You may not have to. She 

might want to carry yours, along with hers.”

Hair was a big issue in the ’70s. Everything was hair; there was 

hair all over the place. We would go to staff meetings, and all we would 

talk about was hair. The Vietnam War was over; people were seeking true 

equal opportunity. Drugs were becoming prevalent. You could open a 

door to a dormitory, and the smell of hash would hit you in the face. Those 

were issues that we had to work, but hair was the number one issue.

I was visiting in Guam, and I was in a hanger talking to Airmen, 

and I look out and there is a tall guy in the back of the group of about 30 

and this guy’s hair was slicked down; it looked like grease. He raised his 

hand and said, “I have a question. Why can’t I wear an earring?” I asked, 

“You want to wear an earring?” He said, “Yeah.” I was totally caught off 

guard—“But why?” He said, “It expresses my individuality.” “I’ll tell you 

what to do with your individuality—get the hell out of my Air Force.”

I went back to my room, and I reflected. I handled his question 

poorly. He had caught me so off guard. I said to myself, “Boy, you blew 

that one.” I thought I’d never see him again, but he deserved something 

better than what I gave him. Little did I know that that was the advent of 

piercings and tattoos. That would have been late ’78—I would have bet 

you anything he was going to ask about hair, and it was piercings. I retired 

in ’79, so I didn’t have to deal with it, but my successors [CMSAF James 

M.] McCoy and [CMSAF Arthur L.] Andrews had to deal with piercings 

and tattoos.

Once again it’s what I call the evolution of the force. Every group 

feels they have to express their own generation, their own individuality.

So going back, I think you spent four years or so 

as an MTI . . .

Four years, four months. Two years as a male instructor and two 

years, three months as a female instructor. I didn’t volunteer, but I’m glad 

I did it. You cannot help but learn while you’re teaching. I learned customs 

and courtesies, firing ranges, and nuclear explosions—I learned all of that 

because I had to teach it, how to set the sights on a weapon, etc. Four years 

plus was enough. I was ready to go back to being a cop. Some guys wanted 

to stay there for a long time, but I said farewell, and I went to Japan to be a 

cop again. I was a master sergeant.

Let me tell you a quick story, if Gaylor can tell a quick story. In 

1958 I managed the Lackland Warhawks baseball team. By order of the 

base commander, those of us on the team were relieved of duty at noon every 

day. By written rule, my day ended at noon to either practice or play a game 

in Alpine, Texas, or Corpus Christi, San Angelo. So my unit made me an 

academic instructor. I’ve always enjoyed classrooms. I’d teach three or four 

classes and say, “See you all,” and I’m out of there.

In October of ’58, after a season of baseball, I was due an annual 

APR [Airman Performance Report]. Second Lieutenant Moser was my 

rating official. I was an area NCO and was in charge of the four flights. He 

called me in to review the appraisal with me. He gave me two checks down 

the middle of 5 ratings—two 3s, and three 4s, no 5s. Lowest grading I’d 

ever received. As a cop, I’d always gotten the highest ratings. He handed 

it to me, and I became angry, not at him, but I was seething. On the back, 

the first line said, “Master Sergeant Gaylor appears to be a very bright and 

young, intelligent noncommissioned officer. However, he was gone most 

of the summer playing for the base baseball team. Master Sergeant Gaylor 

must make a key decision: Does he want to be a jock or a noncommissioned 

officer?” I was angry, seething.

I went home and complained to my wife. She said, “It’s a pretty 

good statement: Do you wanna be a jock, play ball, get off duty at noon, or 

do you want to be a noncommissioned officer?” It made me think. He was 

probably the most courageous rater I’ve ever had. He told the truth. He said 

what I needed to hear. If more supervisors would do that: “Do I want to be 

mediocre, or do I want to be great?” He put it on me.

In the spring of ’59, when I heard the cracks of the bats hitting the 

ball, I knew it was time. I decided I wanted to be an NCO. I took up umpiring, 

which I could do off duty. But I thank him. I have never seen him since, but 

he told me what I needed hear. He influenced my career by that line, “does 

he want to be a jock,” which I could have been. I was good enough to be one, 

“or do I want to be a noncommissioned officer?” It’s just a great story that 

makes a great point of leaders rating people based on their performance.

104
You became an NCO Academy instructor later 

as well, so you were an MTI, and then an NCO 

Academy instructor. 

In the ’50s and ’60s NCO academies were owned by commands. 

Not every command had an academy. If you were in a command that 

didn’t have an academy, you never went. I made senior master sergeant 

in Tachikawa, Japan, in 1963. I had never been to an academy or a 

leadership school. I had no PME [professional military education]. I 

had read a couple of books, but I was a senior master sergeant with no 

formal education.

I left Japan for Columbus AFB in Mississippi and SAC [Strategic 

Air Command]. I got a call in November ’64, “You’re going to NCO 

Academy at Barksdale [AFB, Louisiana].” I said, “I’m a senior master 

sergeant. Why don’t you send some deserving tech?” I drove down to 

Barksdale, asking why I am going to NCO Academy? I get there; there 

were 120 students, and I was the only senior master sergeant. The rest 

were techs and masters. I’m told, “You’re the class leader.” “Well, yeah, 

I’m the only senior. What am I doing here?” 

Within two days I realized why I was there. They were teaching 

me things I never knew: effective writing, effective speaking, work 

simplification, leadership. I had never heard of Abraham Maslow. I didn’t 

know his hierarchy of needs. Every day we marched, and every student had 

to give 14 commands in two minutes. A lot of the students had trouble, so 

I began an adjunct every night in the day room. I would take a classmate 

outside, “To the rear, march on the right foot, left face, salute.” I really 

got motivated. I thought this class was the best thing that ever happened 

to me professionally.

Banquet graduation night: “May I have the envelope please? And 

the honor graduate from Columbus [AFB], Mississippi, senior master . . 

.” Well, I’ll be damned. I get the Academic Award, the Honor Graduate 

Award, and first runner-up to the Commandant’s Award. I returned 

to Columbus AFB filled with pride, picture in the base paper with the 

wing commander.

Three days later, the academy called, “We have an opening on the 

faculty, and you’re our first choice.” “I’m what?” “You say the word, and 

we’ll transfer you down here.” “Wow! I’ll take it.”

Within a week, the process had started to move me to Barksdale. I 

left the cops. My major called me a traitor, but I transferred. I’d only been 

at Columbus a year.

The Vietnam War was escalating. I left the cops, arrived at 

Barksdale with my spouse and four kids in a ’59 Plymouth station wagon. 

They had temporarily closed the academy to air condition the student 

dorm, so they sent me to an academic school at Maxwell. They taught me 

how to get up in front of a group, put a lesson plan together and use training 

aides, visuals. I came back, and I was pumped. I taught two classes, and the 

Vietnam War closed all the academies. So, what do we do? Find a job.

I went down to the cop squadron at Barksdale, “Here I am.” “Who 

are you?” “I’m Gaylor.” “What do you want?” “I want a job.”

I became a cop at Barksdale simply because the academy closed. All 

of us instructors had to go back to our career field. I got orders for Korat, 

Thailand. I moved the family off base into Shreveport, [Louisiana,] rented a 

house, and off I went to Thailand as a cop in January 1967. In April 1968, I 

made chief—four years in grade as a senior.

One day the Stars and Stripes headline read, “Paul W. Airey Selected 

to Be First Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force.” I knew they were 

selecting one, but I was rooting for Jeff Marsh because he was Thirteenth 

Air Force, who we came under, and I had met him. Jeff didn’t get picked. He 

was one of the three finalists: Conrad Stevens, Jeff Marsh, Paul Airey, and 

they picked Airey. I had never heard of him.

In October, six months later, the Korat sergeant major called 

us base chiefs in and said, “Chief Airey’s coming to visit. There will be a 

cocktail party for the chiefs only at the club at 5 o’clock.” There were only 

16 of us chiefs. We were instructed to step forward, shake his hand, tell him 

where we work, and get out of the way. We went to the club, and here he was 

with a wreath chevron. When it was my turn, I said, “Chief Gaylor, security 

superintendent, nice to meet you, Chief.” I thought, “He talks to God.” I 

was awestruck.

I’ve often thought if you had sidled up to me then and said, “Hey, 

Bob, you think someday you would be in that position?” “Yeah, as soon as I 

get back from the moon.” I never, never, never thought that 10 years later I 

would put on that wreath chevron.

That’s a great story because an Airman today, sitting there with 

two stripes, may be CMSAF [Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force] #28. 

They don’t know that. You just have to do your job every day. You can’t 

screw off and then say, okay, now I’ve decided I want to be chief of the Air 

Force. Every day, every day, every day, every day. Attitude, aptitude, head 

on straight, team player. There is no magic formula. It is a simple process.

The things that helped me the most was being an MTI and an 

academy instructor. Had I been a cop, my scope would have been limited to 

that field. I encourage everyone to be a recruiter, a first sergeant, an MTI, 

an MTL [military training leader], an academy instructor. It broadens your 

scope. It lets you see how the rest of the Air Force operates. Had I only 

been a cop I would not have had any idea what they do in PMEL [precision 

measurement equipment laboratory] or fuels or biophysics. If I was CMSAF 

today, I’d probably make special duty mandatory.

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I’d probably say between your 10th and 20th year of service 

you will serve as a recruiter, first sergeant, something, because although 

people may drag their feet and go begrudgingly, it would help them. If 

they close their minds and say, “I don’t want to do it,” I’d probably say, 

“Well, you have made your choice. This is your future; you’ll probably 

retire as a tech or master.” I think you owe it to yourself. I never said no 

to any opportunity.

I’d like to talk about the two top ranks, when we 

created the senior and chief ranks— 

When I made master sergeant that was the end of the line. I made 

master on April 1, 1956. I was 25 years old. The wing had been given a 

quota of one, and I met a board with five other guys. A week later I was told 

I made it, and I sewed it on immediately. I thought that was the end of the 

line. That’s it. There’s no further promotion.

In 1958, at Lackland I decided to apply to be a warrant officer. 

I didn’t like the title, Mr. Gaylor, because it sounded civilian-ish, but 

I thought I owed it to myself. I applied and I filled out the form—and I 

didn’t tell anybody except my family. I was thinking any day I would be 

selected, then I get a letter back saying, “Your application is returned 

without action. We are coming out with two new ranks that will soon be 

announced. Therefore, we are not selecting any new warrant officers.”

I said, “There are two new ranks coming out.” Guys asked, 

“What have you been drinking?” [Laughter] It hadn’t been announced. 

I sort of had the preemptive information. And sure enough, in ’58, they 

announced senior and chief. I knew I didn’t have a shot. I was 27 years old, 

and there were World War II guys hanging around. I didn’t even think of 

making senior, and I didn’t.

A year later, to get chief going, they promoted something like 626 

chiefs with a year in grade. They were called charter chiefs. and they put 

on the rank. I thought my career had just been boosted; I have two ranks 

to go. In ’63, with seven years in grade as a master, I made senior master 

sergeant. And in ’67, I made chief. So that was a boon to me because it 

opened some new ranks. Otherwise, I would have peaked as a master, and 

I may have run out of gas at about 14 years of service and coasted. But it 

gave me aspiration to go for those two ranks, and I achieved them.

I left Korat, Thailand, on January 10, 1968 with orders for 

Grand Forks, North Dakota. I flew back to Shreveport to get my family, 

and headed for Grand Forks. I had no problem with that; I was back to 

being a cop. I was a chief. I knew I would be the group superintendent of 

the cops. I got home to Shreveport, and Kenny [Gaylor’s son] was nine 

years old, and he showed me a coat he got for Christmas. I said “You’re 

going to need that where we’re going.” He looked at his mother, and she 

said, “Your father doesn’t know yet.” “What is it I don’t know?” She 

said, “We’re not going to Grand Forks. SAC headquarters called yesterday. 

They’re reopening the SAC Academy at Barksdale. You’re going to be the 

first instructor.”

Wow. From being an academy instructor to closure, going back to 

the cops, to Thailand, and then on to Grand Forks—and Jim McCoy was in 

personnel at SAC—he engineered my diversion. I owe that to Jim. You talk 

about timing. Had I come back a week earlier, I would have gone to Grand 

Forks, and you’d never hear about Gaylor. Had I come back a week later, I 

might have gone to Grand Forks; it’s timing. While I was on the way home, 

they diverted me to Barksdale. I didn’t even know it. My family knew it 

before I did.

Were you excited about that opportunity?

I was beside myself. We decided to open the academy in July of 

’68. There were SAC academies at March [AFB, California], Westover, 

and Barksdale. We brought those three into one, and we used lesson plans 

from those academies. We selected a faculty of 22 by looking at packages. 

The first women came through in the summer of ’69. The first tech sergeant 

instructor didn’t happen until ’72. The first black instructor happened in 

’73. We weren’t biased; it just happened that way. We didn’t say we can’t 

pick that person because they’re African-American; we just didn’t. I’m not 

sure we even had any packages. It wasn’t a blatant discrimination; it was 

just a happening. I look back now, it was inappropriate, but we were not at 

the point of quotas—like we have to have two of these, three of these. As a 

matter of fact, the first black person we added was a black female, TSgt Dale 

Armwood; she’s retired in San Antonio. I see her every once in a while.

It was 1970, and I was loving my Air Force life. The commandant, a 

lieutenant colonel, notified me that a three-star general wanted to interview 

me. I asked, “For what?” “He’s creating a new position, Second Air Force 

sergeant major, an enlisted person on his staff. He’s never had one, and 

he’s heard about you and your background.” So, I went for an interview. 

I had never talked to a three-star general. We talked 45 minutes about my 

views on leadership. He said, “The top enlisted ranks are not leading as 

they should. They’re not doing their job. I want to bolster that. You have a 

background in leadership. You have a reputation.” And he hired me.

People asked, “Hey, Bob, what are you?” “I’m sergeant major.” 

“What do you do?” “I have no idea. I just sergeant major around.” I had 

mixed emotions. I didn’t want to leave the academy, but it was exciting to 

work for a three-star general. I started out, and I had no idea what to do—

no guideline, no job description. It was a great title. I got introduced at 

luncheons. “But what do you do?” “I’m not sure.”

Gen. [David C.] Jones wanted me to talk about NCO leadership, 

so I put together a two- or three-hour talk. I called an Air Force base, “Ok, 

here I come.” An NCO on the phone said, “For what?” “I want to talk to 

Airmen.” “Well, we’re pretty busy.” I said, “Here I come.” And I went.

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I got up there, and there were 18 Airmen assembled. I just talked 

to them. I mean, I was flying by the seat of my pants. I had no idea what 

I was doing. I started off on a shoestring, and with my boisterousness, 

I developed a reputation.

Was it a challenging time—I know Chief Airey and 

the first chiefs had challenges creating these 

positions across the Air Force. 

Airey was the right choice to be the first. After I met him that first 

time for one minute, there wasn’t much publicity. You didn’t hear much. 

Airey’s Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force? What does he do? He 

apparently goes to dinners and gets introduced. CMSAF #2 [Donald L.] 

Harlow came to the academy in ’69. I played golf with him. I have the 

scorecard in my lockbox. I beat him. I had an 87, he had a 92.

Of course. 

I was riding high in Second Air Force at Barksdale—17 command 

bases, and I was traveling out to them. In 1971 General Jones got picked 

for a fourth star and went to Europe to be the USAFE [US Air Forces 

in Europe] commander. He called me and said, “Do you want to go to 

Germany?” I said, “I’ve never been.” He said, “Let me go on over and see 

what we got, and I’ll summon you.” I didn’t tell anybody because it was 

just him saying that to me.

He left in February, and in May I got a call from Pete Todd, Jones’s 

aide. He said, “He’s ready to move you.” “Well, when does he want me 

there?” He said, “Next week.” “Next week? I got four kids. I can be there 

mid-summer.” Then I got word from the personnel center, “You’re not 

going to Germany. That four-star can’t buck the system. What does he 

think, all he has to do is say he wants somebody and gets them? You’re a 

cop, Gaylor. They’re over in cops in Europe. You’re not going.” I said, 

“Hey, you work that out with the four-star. Now don’t get me in the 

middle. You deal with him.”

In three days another guy called and said, “You’re going to 

Europe.” So in July ’71, the Gaylors went to Europe.

 

Flip Horn was the USAFE senior enlisted leader. Immediately 

people believed I was replacing Flip Horn. I knew I wasn’t. That’s not 

why Jones brought me over there. On the third day I was there, I went 

to see him. He said, “Here’s what I have in mind. Don’t even say the 

word academy. We don’t have the money. What I envision is a leadership 

center. Maybe four instructors and one admin guy. I’ve got a building I 

can give you, I think the classroom seats 36 people. I envision a two-week 

course—no drill, no volleyball. I want you to focus on effective speaking, 

equal opportunity, and leadership management.”

We opened the USAFE Command Management Center. We gave 

quotas out to USAFE bases, and within six months they were beating down 

the door to get in. I had a sergeant from Bitburg [AB, Germany] say, “I’ll 

take leave if you’ll give me a seat in the classroom.” People found their 

PFE [promotion fitness exam] score was going up 40 points. We weren’t 

teaching the test, we were teaching leadership and management, effective 

communication and equal opportunity. Man, we gassed them—36 NCOs 

every two weeks.

I arranged to keep three instructors at home and one would travel 

to a USAFE base. Everybody wanted us. In 1973 General Jones announced 

we were moving USAFE Headquarters from Weisbaden [AB, Germany] to 

Ramstein [AB, Germany]. And in the summer of ’73, I became the USAFE 

senior enlisted advisor—the first one at Ramstein.

How long did you serve there?

In May of ’74 Gen. Jones was selected to be Chief of Staff of the Air 

Force. After he left, I was a lame duck. I kept doing what I was doing, but 

without any senior command support. In August of ’74, three months after 

he left, I got a call from Pentagon personnel saying Gen. Jones was ready 

to move me. I said, “Where does he want me?” “Well, let me tell you first 

what he wants you to do. He wants you to travel all over the Air Force talking 

about leadership. And he doesn’t care where you do it, Pentagon, Maxwell 

[AFB, Alabama], Randolph [AFB, Texas]. He said to tell you that you pick.” 

I chose Randolph.

My family and I arrived at Randolph in August ’74. I was given 

blanket travel orders valid for a year at a time that I could travel anywhere in 

the Air Force world to talk leadership. That was my only guideline.

Was it just as successful as the course in Europe? 

I put together a leadership talk and I developed a handout. All I did 

was show up at the base theater and, “Here’s Chief Gaylor.” “Who is this 

guy?” “I don’t know, but he left this handout.” Like the Lone Ranger, I left 

a silver bullet.

I flew all over the Pacific giving my talk on leadership. It started out 

at about 45 minutes. By the time I gave a dozen talks, it became a two-hour 

talk. No break. I had a line of requests waiting. I hit the ground running. 

I did 265 travel days in 1975. I was talking leadership in base theaters, 

spending three days at a base, six talks, two talks a day, frequently without a 

microphone. That’s why I still talk so loud, because I had to.

My first of six talks I’d have an audience of maybe 22, and then I’d 

have 64. By my sixth talk, I’d have standing room only because it was a good 

talk. It was on styles of leadership and adapting your style to the situation. In 

fact, the strength of your style is your potential weakness. That’s a true fact 

most people never think of. If you’re a take-charge autocratic-type leader, 

getting things done, you’re probably at times too damn bossy. 

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And if you’re a people-oriented, friendly, caring guy, people will 

step all over you. So you got to learn to cut it off at the pass. You got to 

know when your strength is becoming your weakness.

How did you end up being selected as the 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force?

In July of ’77 I received a message along with four other chiefs, 

“Report to the Pentagon to meet a board.” On July 7th we assembled 

on the fourth floor of the Pentagon. The five chiefs looked at each 

other. It appeared one of us was going to be [CMSAF Thomas N.] 

Barnes’s replacement. A lieutenant colonel briefed us, “There’s a board 

down the hall, a four-star and two three-star generals, and you’ll meet 

alphabetically—30 minutes each.” We stood there, not wanting to sit 

down and wrinkle our trousers. I was excited, butterflies, etc.

Great questions: “What are the issues we’re facing today? What 

would you do if you were the next chief?” I enjoyed it. I wanted more 

because I had traveled the Air Force and I knew the pulse. They told me 

I could leave. I stood up to shake their hands, and I said to a three-star, 

“Thank you, Colonel Mathis.” I called him colonel. I called a three-star 

general a colonel. I said, “Isn’t that great? I come all the way from San 

Antonio. I shined my shoes, I bought new ribbons, I got a haircut. I 

thought I did fairly well with the board, and I screw it up just trying to get 

out of the room. May I start over?” Sure enough.

I left the Pentagon about four in the afternoon. I got in my car, and 

we headed back to San Antonio. I was driving back and stopping, giving 

talks en route at bases, and on 17 July I got a call from the Gen. [Bennie 

L.] Davis, “Thought you might like to be the first to know you’ve been 

selected.” Wow! Matter of fact, I had just gotten out of the shower. I had 

a towel around my body. Wow! He said, “The word will go out tomorrow 

to the Air Force.” Wow!

We drove into Washington on the 29th of July. On the 31st I was 

in the chief of staff’s office for the ceremony.

Looking back, do you feel you accomplished what you 

set out to then?

You know, I realize I wasn’t the greatest “Pentagon Chief.” I went 

to Spangdahlem [AFB], Germany, on a Europe trip and [future CMSAF 

Sam E.] Parish was the USAFE senior enlisted leader. He told me that 17 

Airmen wanted to meet with me at Spangdahlem Air Base. “About what?” 

I asked. He said, “I have no idea. They’ve asked for an audience.” Well, I 

never said no; so we set it up.

I went to the recreation center that evening, and there were 17 

Airmen, 17 spouses, and crying babies. “Who are you?” They said, 

“We’re unsponsored Airmen.” “What do you mean unsponsored?” 

“Our dependents were not funded.” “Well, then how did they get here?” 

“Well, her dad paid.” “Why are you unfunded?” “Well, because Air Force 

policy does not permit family travel for E-4 and below.” I thought, “That 

doesn’t seem right. If the colonel gets to bring his family, why doesn’t the 

young Airman?”

I came back to the Pentagon, and knew we needed to fix this issue. 

A colonel said, “That’s Air Force policy.” I said, “Sir, that’s the worst thing 

you could have said to me . . . that’s Air Force policy.” He asked, “What are 

you saying?” I said, “Maybe we need to change Air Force policy.”

Senator [John W.] Warner from Virginia had run into the same 

thing with Sailors at Norfolk [Naval Shipyard, Virginia] and thought it was 

about time we changed it. I went over to Capitol Hill and testified with a 

committee. Well, Congress changed that. I was given credit, but it wasn’t 

me. I didn’t change it; the Air Force did. I’m not one that says I did this 

during my tenure, but I do say we obtained travel for Airmen of all ranks and 

their dependents, and we opened 70 leadership schools.

Gen. Jones seems to have focused on leadership 

education, and I guess it was very necessary at the 

time. Why do you think that was?

I think we just hadn’t gotten there educationally. I think, for one 

thing, we had way too many levels of leadership. I would go out on a SAC 

flight line at Carswell [AFB, Fort Worth, Texas] and there was a colonel, the 

director of maintenance, then a lieutenant colonel or major, then a captain or 

a lieutenant, then the chief or a senior master sergeant, then a master sergeant 

or a tech sergeant, and then a staff sergeant out there actually changing the 

tires. We needed to take about five of those levels out of there. We could 

get by with a colonel, a captain, a chief or a senior master sergeant, and a 

staff sergeant. 

There is something to be said for a planned reduction of the force. 

Sometimes it’s healthy; you get all those levels out of there. That’s what 

we did. We had 465,000, and we reduced about 100,000. With the aid 

of technology, we could do stuff quicker, throw away the tech order, and 

give them a system they could look into. We could get a lot more done. I 

mean, majors were telling chiefs, “Stay out of my area. You made a decision, 

it wasn’t yours to make.” The chief says, “Okay, I’ll just drive around 

in my flight line truck all day.” We just had to get rid of some levels and 

clarify authority.

We had a lot of bases that wanted leadership schools. We said “All 

right, you can have a leadership school, but it has to be in-residence. The 

students must live in a leadership dorm.” The bases were really cramped, 

three to a room, and they said they couldn’t spare additional rooms. So, the 

policy was they couldn’t have a leadership school. Well, that didn’t make 

sense. So we changed it to where if you had a dorm, okay, but you didn’t 

have to have a dorm. If the students lived at home, that was okay, too. It was 

more important to have a school.

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Along the way we made modifications that appeared to be sensible. 

Instead of saying, “If you don’t meet this provision you can’t do this,” we 

said, “We’ll change the provision to where you can do it.” We did a lot of 

sensible things. Instead of saying, “Ah, you were caught on drugs, you’re 

out of the Air Force,” we said, “Let’s open some medical procedures 

where you can be treated. We’re not going to dump our drug users back 

onto society; we’re going to try our best to rehabilitate them unless they’re 

not able to rehabilitate.” So, we did some very commonsense things 

along the way.

Gen. Jones’s philosophy, and some people never learn this, was 

that you can’t change procedures by sending out a letter or an e-mail. If 

that was true we’d send out a letter saying to treat everybody nice. He 

knew you have to educate, and education takes time. If you send out a 

letter you might change some behavior overnight, but if you’re going to 

change it in the long run, you’ve got to educate. Leadership schools, NCO 

Academies, Air Command and Staff School, Squadron Officer School, 

there are no substitutes. If you want me to fly an airplane, you’d better 

train me. You don’t just put me in a cockpit and say, “See if you can take 

this thing off.”

You seemed to have led the Air Force through a 

lot of change. What did you learn about leading 

through change?

I have studied change quite extensively, and I learned that the 

powers to be that initiate the change are obligated to ensure that it will, 

in fact, make things better. This is before the masses even know about 

it. These are the thinkers in the Pentagon. They’re obligated to evaluate, 

measure, and weigh it to make sure.

Next thing, announce it, market it, sell it, and answer the why. 

In the old days, the powers to be back in the ’40s used to say, “All leaves 

are canceled until morale improves. You will improve your morale by 

order of the commander.” You can’t do that anymore. Americans are too 

sophisticated. They want to know why. So, we have to market, we have to 

sell. We have to convince as many of the masses as possible. That’s called 

education. Here’s why we’re doing it, and here’s what we expect from the 

modification or the change.

Then I suggest the recipients of the change have to say, “I’m 

behind it. I’m for it. I’m not going to fight it.” Then you celebrate the 

change. You literally celebrate it.

When we sold our old house, I stopped at the end of the driveway 

as we backed out for the last time and shut off the car. My wife said, “Why 

are you shutting off the car?” I said, “We will never walk in this house 

again. Let’s remember the Christmases and the good memories and 

the families and the neighbors. Let’s just sit here for a few minutes and 

remember such and such.” We both thought that was great. It was a great 

house. “Okay. Now let’s agree that we will never in our new home say, 

I liked my other house better. My other pantry was bigger.” What’s to 

be gained by that? You celebrate change. We’re in a new house. It’s going 

to be great.

 

Sometimes I say, “If you’re on your second marriage you may 

not want to say to your spouse, ‘Well my previous spouse . . .’ You may 

not want to go there because the odds are you’ll get in trouble.” So you 

celebrate change.

You were talking about leadership and leadership 

education. There was a point in your career where the 

senior enlisted force transitioned from a technical 

mind-set to a leadership mind-set. When was that, and 

what brought about that change?

I think it was in education. You know, I never went to leadership 

school. I never went to an academy until I was a senior. I was never 

given that benefit.

Everything starts with a theoretical framework. People say, “I don’t 

like theory.” You’ve got to start with theory. If you don’t start with theory, 

where do you start? [American psychologist] Frederick Herzberg theorized 

that it’s not the environment in which an Airman is motivated. It’s about 

what they do and the feelings they get from the job. That’s a theory, but 

where else would you start?

Autocratic leadership won World War II. George Patton is a prime 

example. After World War II, when there wasn’t supposed to be any more 

war, professors like Maslow and Herzberg said that you don’t have to yell at 

people to get them to work. You can provide a work environment that makes 

them receptive to work. People went, “No, you have to yell at them and you 

have to tell them what to do.” And they said no. So, we began to listen to 

some of these so-called experts. We may not have agreed with everything 

they said, but they left a thought behind, a starting point.

For example, an author wrote a book in 1970 titled I’m Okay, 

You’re Okay. What in heaven’s name is that? There are some different 

thoughts; I’m okay, you’re not. You’re okay, I’m not. Neither one of us are 

okay, or I’m okay, you’re okay. So I read that and thought, “Well yeah, I’m 

okay, but so is he. It’s not I’m okay and he’s not. We’re all okay.”

So every one of those theoretical frameworks left something behind 

we could inculcate into our own style. You are a product of supervisors 

you had, who had supervisors they had. We’re all a transition. You don’t 

go from Gen. Patton to Mark Welsh. There’s a series of people in between 

that influence somebody who influences somebody who influenced. Now 

you got Mark Welsh, who is a great manager and a great leader and a great 

human being and a great father. You might say, “Where did he come from?” 

Well, George Patton would have probably drummed him out of the Corps, 

you know. “You don’t yell. You’re not profane.” Well, we found out you 

don’t have to be. All that’s education.

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That’s why I’m a PME supporter. You don’t tell people how to 

lead, you plant seeds that help them put together how they lead.

One of your other strengths is your ability to 

communicate. Here you are, in your mid-eighties and 

you’re still connecting with younger Airmen today 

because you’re a good communicator. 

What is your secret?

I am convinced at the age of 85 that God put me on Earth to talk. 

I cannot raise the hood of a car. I have trouble driving a nail. There are 

just so many things I cannot do, but I can talk. When I was four years 

old I sang at a grocery store opening “Where Have You Been, Billy Boy, 

Billy Boy,” and won a big box of cookies. In high school I was not a good 

basketball player, but when someone had to get up in the auditorium to 

announce the upcoming game, they’d shove me up front. So, I’ve never 

met a microphone I didn’t like. I can talk. I pay people to raise the hood 

of the car and drive the nail. It took me a while to learn that. I tried to raise 

the hood of the car, and I screwed things up—and it cost me double. I talk.

I think the message is that each person is pinged with a talent. 

I’ve seen six-year-olds sit and play the piano. I go, wow. Where did 

they get that skill? I watch a guy repair a transmission with little parts, 

and I go, wow. I think I’ve always had the ability to communicate. I’ve 

never had a problem with that. I had to learn things I didn’t do very well. 

Could I learn to drive a nail? Sure. Why don’t I? I’m not interested. 

I’m too busy talking.

I said to a guy, “I just paid $1,000 to have my trees trimmed.” He 

said, “You can’t trim a tree?” I said, “No. I would probably saw my arm 

off. I paid $800 to have my sprinkler system adjusted.” He said, “You 

can’t adjust it?” “No, but I’ll tell you what I can do. I can go to Caesar’s 

Palace in Las Vegas. I can give a talk. They write me a check for $2,400. 

I come back and pay the tree trimmer and the sprinkler adjuster, and the 

world is happy.”

Two more questions for you. First, if you could think 

back to the Airmen you served with when you came 

into the Air Force and then compare them to the 

Airmen that serve today, what do you think would be 

the biggest difference?

I think the biggest change obviously is technology, no question 

about it, and that is wide-ranging. As they were educated in middle school 

and high school, they had computers, calculators, a variety of devices that 

helped them learn. They brought that talent with them. You give them 

a new piece of equipment, then moments later they’re somewhat skilled 

with it. I believe technology has opened the field.

It’s like what I said earlier about your strength becoming your 

weakness. If your life is all technology, you lose the ability to interact with 

others. You can’t sit and enjoy a beer—you’re too busy on a device. I see it in 

restaurants. They invite a girl for a date, and they both sit there looking at a 

device—and that’s terrible.

My daughter interviewed potential employees. She said, “Dad, 50 

percent don’t know how to interview. They don’t know how to sit and carry 

on a conversation.” So it’s a case of overextending. The Greeks of thousands 

of years ago said the key to a happy life is balance. Work, play, family, work. 

The moment you get out of balance, you’re tilting. People that embrace 

technology 100 percent and rely on Facebooking with somebody in New 

Hampshire instead of people within their immediate community don’t know 

what they’re missing.

A belief and a truism is that what you grow up without becomes very 

important to you later in life. People in my age bracket, what’s important 

now are cruise ships—because we never did it—and jewelry. I bought 

my wife a ring when she was 80, she never had one. Now if you go on a 

cruise ship and have a big diamond when you’re 24, what are you going to 

do for an encore? So, you say I’ll probably go to Africa and work with the 

impoverished, because you’ve never tasted that. That’s what people are 

doing now. As they get older, they’re looking for something they’ve never 

had before. We never think of that. We just sort of migrate. What you grow 

up without becomes very important to you later in life. I grew up during 

the Depression and World War II, and now I got to have a Mustang—a ’66 

Mustang—a new Hyundai. I go on fancy cruises because I never did that.

Well, that’s it chief. Thank you again for doing this . . .

I couldn’t wait for today. I thank all of you. It must be close 

to 11 o’clock.

Well, it’s almost 1:00.

As I was saying, I’m either blessed or cursed with a lot of information. 

My prayer to the good Lord nightly is that there are still people I want to talk 

to and share my experiences, so give me a little more time and then give me 

the courage to know when my time is up and handle it appropriately. That’s 

all I want. When Airmen write me a note, an e-mail out of the clear blue, and 

say you made me think, I go, wow. That’s the money in the bank. I wouldn’t 

take a million bucks for that, to think that maybe I helped somebody. 

Because so many people helped me.

I realize you can’t tell somebody how to behave. You just sort of 

hope to say something that they remember. I’m notoriously famous for 

things like “Hot Fries” and “put your name on the mailbox.” Those are Bob 

Gaylor’s stories. And I dice radishes. They’re just stories I tell.

People ask me, “Did that really happen?” I say, “I don’t know. 

I’ve told the story so much I think it did.” And then I’d say, “Did you like 

the story?” And they say, yeah. “Well then it doesn’t matter whether it’s 

happened or not if you like the story.” [Laughter]

112
113
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

James M. McCoy

August 1, 1979 - July 31, 1981

James McCoy was sure he would 

become a priest. He was born in Creston, 

Iowa, on 30 July 1930 and attended a 

Catholic prep school and St. Benedict’s 

College. But after a period of reflection 

and prayer, he decided against it, 

choosing instead to join the Air Force in 

January 1951.

McCoy became a radar operator 

and quickly moved through the ranks, 

rising from corporal to technical sergeant 

in just five years. He then became a mili-

tary training instructor and followed the 

path of education throughout his career. 

After a two-year tour in the Philippines, 

McCoy became a Reserve Officer Train-

ing Corps (ROTC) cadet instructor, 

then a noncommissioned officer (NCO) 

preparatory school instructor, and later 

the noncommissioned officer in charge 

(NCOIC) of professional military ed-

ucation (PME) for Strategic Air Com-

mand. In 1974 he was selected as one of 

the USAF’s 12 Outstanding Airmen of 

the Year. 

In July 1979, Gen Lew Allen 

Jr. selected McCoy to be the 6th Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

(CMSAF). McCoy quickly set out to 

improve the enlisted retention rate, which 

had dropped to as low as 25 percent in 

the late 1970s. He implemented the 

Stripes for Exceptional Performers 

Program, improved discipline, and 

expanded PME. He retired in November 

1981 but continues to stay in touch with 

the Air Force. He speaks to every class 

at the Senior NCO Academy, and his 

namesake’s Airman Leadership School at 

Offutt AFB, Nebraska. 

McCoy sat down for an interview 

in September 2015 to reflect on his life 

before, during, and after the Air Force. 

During the interview McCoy spoke about 

his passion for PME, how close he was to 

becoming an officer, and his excitement 

after being named Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force. The following are edited 

excerpts from the conversation.

114
Well Chief, we often learn about our former chiefs 

in the PDG [Professional Development Guide], and one 

of the first things it says in the PDG about you is that 

at one point you considered going into the priesthood, 

but you changed your mind and ended up coming into 

the Air Force.1 I’m curious as to why you changed your 

mind and how you ended up in the Air Force?

Well, first of all, let me go back to the priest business. I did 

have a vocation. I spent four years in Maur Hill High School, which is a 

prep school for St. Benedict’s College, St. Benedict’s Abbey, and I was 

convinced that I had a calling, but I got a year in at St. Benedict’s, and 

I said, no, that’s not for me.2 So I went home. Of course, my mother 

was very upset, because she was convinced that I should have been a 

priest. And I said to myself, well, that’s not my calling. Instead, I joined 

the Air Force. 

I joined the Air Force because I almost got drafted into the Army, 

and I didn’t want to do that. I had already gone to a recruiting office. I had 

already talked to recruiters and, actually, basically signed some papers. I 

was a junior at St. Ambrose College in Davenport, [Iowa,] and my dad, to 

this day I do not know how he got a hold of me, late 1950, and he says, 

“Son, if you’re still thinking about joining the Air Force, you better do it 

today because your draft notice is on the dining room table.” In those days, 

if you got your draft notice, if you actually received it, you were drafted. So 

I got on a bus and went down to the recruiting office, signed the papers, 

and the rest is history. But I did have a calling, and I’m very proud of that 

calling. And I think that, you know, who knows where I would have been 

if I’d finished that calling. I wouldn’t have been Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force, that’s for sure.

Maybe this was your calling in the end. You joined, 

I think it was late 1940s, early 1950s?

January of ‘51.

At the time the Korean War had begun. And, we often 

talk about World War II . . . and you hear about 

Americans coming together to support that war. Then 

you hear about Vietnam, and how many Americans 

were against that war. What was the feeling amongst 

Americans, and the public support for military 

members, at the time you joined?

Well in 1951, actually 1950, when I got the notice from my dad, the 

American public was very sincere about young men serving in our country. 

And I say young men because at that time not too many women were serving 

the country. So I felt it was my duty to do that. I felt like I needed to be ready 

in case, because I knew I had a low draft number, and I knew I was going to 

get drafted. But anyway, the consensus of the American people in the early 

’50s was, serve your country and do it well. 

One of the things that is interesting about when you 

joined is that we were still a very young service. 

What do you remember about those early days? 

I think at one point you were a corporal before we 

even had the Airman ranks. Did it feel like a separate 

service at the time?

Well, I think the best way to answer that was that we were so young, 

and we were trying to figure out what the Air Force was going to become. 

I remember I went through Lackland [AFB, Texas]. I remember the men 

and women, or the men that went through Sampson [AFB, New York] were 

issued the olive drab uniform, but they got one stripe.3 They were a PFC 

[private first class]. So I started as a private. I was then a PFC, and then I 

was a corporal. On our wedding invitation, it says Cpl. James M. McCoy. 

On 1 April of 1952, I woke up one morning and I’m no longer a corporal. 

I’m an Airman second class. And we had Airman third class, Airman second 

class, and Airman first class. One of the things I remember distinctly is 

when I wanted to get married, I had to get permission because I was only an 

E-3, a corporal. So I had to get permission from my squadron commander 

to get married.

Did the stripes change at that point too?

No. We had the regular, we had the new stripes. We had the one 

stripe, the two stripes, and the three stripes. And so we had all those up until 

[CMSAF #10 Gary] Pfingston was chief when they changed the chief stripe.

115
You said you had to get permission to get married, 

which is interesting—well, first, how did you 

meet Kathy?

Actually, it was kind of interesting. My sister introduced us, and 

it was at a college bonfire in St. Ambrose College in Davenport, Iowa. 

Nancy, my sister, says, “I want you to meet somebody.” So she introduced 

me to this young, lovely young lady by the name of Kathleen Loretta 

O’Connor. I said, “Boy, she has to be a good Catholic with a name like 

that.” And she was and still is. But that’s how we met. She could probably 

tell you more about it, but . . .

How did she feel when she became an 

Air Force spouse? 

Well, I left her on the back porch of her house in Dixwell Court 

in Davenport, Iowa, crying because she didn’t want to see me go. And I 

was probably crying too. And her dad was mad at me for a couple of years 

because I left his little girl and went off to war. But when I came back, I had 

gained about 30, 40 pounds. I was pretty big. That was that good chow 

hall food. Anyway, so we kicked it off from there. And we got married, and 

I got trimmed down a little bit. So it was a great experience for both of us.

You were promoted fairly fast. In 1956 you were a 

technical sergeant, and you were selected to become 

an MTI [military training instructor]. 

Well, first of all, the reason I got promoted early was because in 

those days we had frozen career fields. If you were in certain career fields, 

you couldn’t get promoted. I was in a career field that was brand new—

instructing training career field. So I went up pretty fast. And as a result 

of going up pretty fast, they said since you’re an instructor, you need to 

come down to basic training and help us with basic training. So I became 

an MTI. I wasn’t pleased with that, but it was a great experience. Being a 

tech sergeant, I didn’t have to push troops, but I had to supervise about 

15 young Airmen to do it. 

I had in the meantime attended OCS [officer candidate school]. 

I got five months into the course, and I was eliminated. Five of us were 

eliminated from the course, and it was because of the scoring system that 

they had. Not too many people know that, and so it’s kind of an interesting 

thing, what if? What if I had become an officer? I wouldn’t be sitting here 

as the sixth Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. Who knows what I 

could have been.

Was that a disappointment for you then?

It was a big disappointment. I almost left the service. Not only was 

I eliminated from OCS, I was shipped to the Philippines by myself, leaving 

Kathy back in Davenport, Iowa. So I was extremely disappointed. And I was 

taking it out on myself. But a good friend of mine, a master sergeant, World 

War II veteran, got me under his wings and said, “McCoy, you got too much 

to offer. Get yourself straightened out.” And to this day I thank him for 

that because I did. I mean, I eventually got her to come over, and we spent 

a year over there. We had another child in the Philippines, and so it was 

quite an experience.

What did that teach you? Did you learn about the 

meaning of service at that point? You know, it’s a 

lot of sacrifice.

Well, the services today have changed so much as to when I came 

in. In those days, you’re pretty much on your own. And I can remember the 

first sergeant I did have in my organization, he says, “Are you a member of 

the NCO Club?” and I said, “No.” And he says, “Well, you should be. Come 

on down.” So we went to the club. Guess what? He got plastered out of his 

mind on my money, and I had to go home to face her with all our money 

gone. So a little bit different in those days. But I think I learned a lot in those 

early years of my military life: how important it is to take care of your people. 

And that was my emphasis even when I became Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force because I wanted to make sure our people were well taken care of. 

Get involved. Get involved in everything that you can possibly do.

We created the senior and chief ranks around that 

time. You were a technical sergeant, and at that time 

master sergeant was the highest you could go. 

What do you remember about that change?

Well, we were in the Philippines at the time, and I thought to 

myself, “Well, I got one more stripe to go.” Seven, or eight, nine, 10 years 

of service. And after the change I thought, “Wow. Now I got another two 

more stripes to make.” But, again, going back to that first sergeant/master 

sergeant, he told me, “Don’t give up. You got too much to lose.” So I did. 

I studied. I finished my college degree and continued on to do the best I 

could. After the Philippines, we went to the University of Notre Dame. I 

went on AFROTC [Air Force Reserve Officer Training Corps] duty there, 

and that was a great experience. I wish I could have spent more than one 

year. But, again, manpower cuts cut my slot, so I have a history in my first 

10, 12 years of getting my slots cut. And so I had to go and ended up down 

the highway to a Strategic Air Command [SAC] base called Bunker Hill AFB 

in Indiana. What a change that was.

116
Yeah, I imagine. You spent quite a bit of your career, 

actually, in the training environment.

 I did.

What drew you into that path?

Well, I guess one of the things, as I think back on it, was my 

experience on ROTC duty leading the cadets. You know, they were going 

to be our future officers, and I was bound and determined that they knew 

the difference between officer and enlisted, and that they had the emphasis 

on enlisted in their portfolio. So I think that was a challenge for me. 

When I went down to Bunker Hill in the early days of the Airman 

Leadership School, they called it prep school in those days. In the first prep 

school class I stepped into, it was Noncommissioned Officer Preparatory 

School. They were staff sergeants, but 12, 13, 14 years of service, again, 

because of the frozen career fields. I said to myself, “Something’s wrong 

here. Just the picture is not right.” So, I made a little promise to myself if 

I ever get up to a position where I can do it, I want to change that. 

Well, actually, I did. I got to SAC Headquarters, and we named it 

the NCO Leadership School. Now it’s the Airman Leadership School. So 

through the years, I’ve seen the evolution of that. 

Now if I understand it right, one of your students was 

[CMSAF #5 Bob] Gaylor; is that correct?

Yes, it was.

What do you remember about teaching him?

I taught him everything he knows except the 3 Bs, as I say 

sometimes: “Be brief, be bright, and be gone.” He never has learned that 

one. He still hasn’t. But anyway, Bob was in the class I taught, and I taught 

human relations and management. 

I remember one day sitting in class, this was at Barksdale AFB 

in Louisiana. It was pretty warm outside, and the air conditioning had 

broken. It was right after lunch. He was sitting in the corner I think, 

and I was going through this lesson plan as best I could, and I could see 

I was losing the class. I was talking about performance standards, and 

performance standards had certain subjects you had to weigh. So I went 

through the process of what you do to get the weights—and I looked at him 

and I said, “Sergeant Gaylor, what do you weigh?” He woke up and said, 

“165.” So I thought that was the end of the class.

But the other thing I remember about the NCO Academy. I 

was at the NCO Academy when President Kennedy was shot. I was in 

class and I was teaching emotions, and you talk about a touchy subject 

to get through. 

So later, we shut down the school, shut down the Academy.4

Everybody went different ways. I went to the base at Barksdale. Bob had to 

go to Utapao in Thailand. And while he was over there, I was working in 

personnel at Second Air Force, and I had the opportunity to see the chief 

promotion list. Well, guess whose name was on there? Bob Gaylor. So I 

went to the clothing sales store, got a set of chief stripes, and went out to 

see Selma [Gaylor] and their four children, and I told them that Bob had 

got promoted.

So Kenny [Gaylor, Bob’s son,] said, “We need to celebrate.” So we 

did. And Selma says, “I think there’s a beer in the refrigerator.” So he went 

over and got it. And to make a long story short, which I have a tendency not 

to do, I went over and drank his beer. That was his coming home beer.

Oh, no.

He had told Selma to leave it . . . don’t let anybody touch that. So 

he returned home from Thailand, and he tells Kenny, “Bring me my beer, 

my coming home beer.” And Kenny says, “Jim McCoy already drank it.” So 

that’s how far we go back.

Thank you for sharing that story. I think one of 

the things you talked about is how PME is different 

today. One thing that is quite different is that each 

command had its own school. Each school was similar, 

but different. And of course today all the PME 

schoolhouses operate under the Barnes Center.5

Do you think that has been a good evolution?

Oh, yeah. First, I was the SAC senior enlisted advisor at the time, 

and I had control of the three academies in the command. Well, it actually 

came down to one academy by then. We could pretty well pick and choose 

what we wanted to teach. But the change was the right thing to do; it was the 

right move. We had some academies and some places around the country 

that were teaching small arms—how to carry arms. And other ones were 

just concentrating strictly on speech. So, we didn’t have a standardized 

curriculum. We developed our own curriculum. So by establishing a college 

for enlisted PME, which is now the Barnes Center, we standardized the 

curriculum, and we’re doing the right thing. 

I have some trouble with them every now and then because they 

want to go a little bit too far than I think we should be going, but it’s still 

standardized. And what we’ve done is we’ve been able to develop our 

academies and our leadership school, but more importantly, the great young 

Airmen that we have today. 

117
Thinking about how it was back then and looking 

ahead to how you would want to develop Airmen, 

would you say we hit that mark?

We did. It was the right thing to do. When I became the chief, I 

knew that the best thing we could do was to expand that and get it better, 

even make it better.

There was a lot of heartache because we took away the funding 

that the commands had put into the academies and leadership school. 

Some commands like SAC, they put a lot of money into it, and they wanted 

to make sure they had the right curriculum and the right facilities, and so 

forth. And so some of the commands were a little bit put out with that, 

because now they had to put it in their own budget process.

In 1967, when Chief [Paul] Airey became the first 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, obviously 

that was a significant moment in our history. We look 

back at it now and think of it as a major change. Was 

it just as significant then, when you heard the news 

that we had made that move?

Well, yeah, that was—and you probably know the history of this. 

If Gen J. P. McConnell hadn’t appointed Chief Airey as the first one, we 

wouldn’t have this. We would have had to rely upon Congress to do it, 

because there was an emphasis within the Congress, Cong. L. Mendel 

Rivers [D–SC] had started it. You know, “Air Force, if you don’t do that, 

I’ll pass a law requiring you to do that.” Well, the leadership of the Air 

Force at that time got the message, and that’s when Paul was selected.

And Paul would tell you today if he was here, God rest his soul, 

that the first six months he was in the job were the hardest six months he 

had ever spent in his entire career—and he was a POW [prisoner of war] in 

World War II—because he had to sell the position. A big push, and he had 

to sell it to Gen. McConnell. And after about six months, Gen. McConnell 

called him in and said, “You’re right, Chief. I made a mistake. This is what 

we need.” He thought it was going to be somebody who would be in the 

chain of command and would do all these things, but it wasn’t. And we 

never were that chain of command. We were there to advise the leadership 

of the Air Force.

So, you know, it was a positive mood. I was stationed at SAC 

headquarters at the time, and I remember when Chief Airey made his 

first visit to Offutt and came in on an airplane. I said, “Whoa. Got his own 

airplane.” I thought that’s a pretty cool job. So people said, “You ought to be 

thinking about that.” And I said, “Okay, I’ll think about it.” I never thought it 

would happen.

And yet it did. One of the first things Chief Airey did 

was develop a new promotion system (WAPS), and you 

had made chief right before that was implemented.6

Was that a necessary change at the time?

Well yeah, again, going back to the frozen career fields, we had a 

lot of people that couldn’t get promoted unless somebody died or left the 

service. So, it was the right thing for the Air Force to do.

I know when it first came out there was a lot of controversy about 

it because you had to test, and you had different points for this; different 

points for that. We had to educate the force on why we did this. And as a 

result of the change, we had an equal opportunity promotion system. The 

frozen career fields went away; we didn’t have them anymore. We had 

people retiring at 20-years’ service as a staff sergeant because they couldn’t 

get promoted. And here I was just rapidly going up the ranks—and I wasn’t 

the only one. There are a lot of other career fields like that.

How long did it take, I guess, to normalize 

across the force?

The WAPS system? 

Yeah. 

Let’s say probably three or four promotions cycles. People had 

to get used to it. And a lot of the old timers that were against it eventually 

retired, so I would say three, or four, or five years. It was pretty well accepted 

when I became Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, and that was 1979.

118
One of the things I found interesting when I was 

reading about you and your career was that you 

considered retiring early. Then you changed your 

mind, and you went on a different course. Can you 

talk about that moment? 

I love to talk about that because this young lady over here [Mrs. 

McCoy] had a big influence on that decision. What had happened was we 

were at SAC headquarters. I had 19.5 years of service. I had made chief 

when I had 16 years in the service. An assignment came down, and we had 

a large family. We have eight children. I called Kathy, and I said, “We got 

to talk about this.” In those days, if you had an assignment, you had seven 

days to accept the assignment or retire, and I was eligible for retirement as 

I could have retired at 20 years.

So we really discussed it quite a bit, and I said, “We need to talk to 

our children.” One of the things we always did was sit down together for 

dinner. Well, we called them around, and I said, “We’ve got some news. 

We’ve got a new assignment.” And they asked, “Where are we going?” 

“We’re going to Hawaii.”

Well, the little ones were jumping up and down. They were happy. 

Debbie left the room. Her mother went in and found her laying on her bed 

crying and sobbing, “I do not want to go. I don’t want to go. Please.”

How old was she at that time?

She was a junior in high school.

I see.

So, that was a big decision we had to make. It was tough. It was 

tough with Debbie. I think as we both look back on it, Kathy and I, not only 

did Debbie go to Radford High School, she won the biggest scholarship 

that you could win, and went to Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. 

And she was watching some guy by the name of Paxton playing lacrosse. 

He was an All-American lacrosse player, and he was a couple of years ahead 

of her. So to make a long story short, they ended up getting married. And I 

think she’s done pretty good because he’s now the assistant commandant 

of the Marine Corps.7

I promised Debbie the day she married him that I’d say something 

nice about the Corps every day. So, I said it today. Period. Check it off.

Done. 

That was a big decision it really was. We went to Hawaii, and we got 

caught up in a four-year assignment. Thanks to the Air Force Association, 

I was selected, I should say we were selected, as one of 12 Outstanding 

Airmen of the Year. 

We came to Washington, [DC,] and we met a general by the name 

of Gen Russell E. Dougherty, and he asked us questions in the receiving 

line. We were still stationed in Hawaii. And he said—he particularly asked 

Kathy, he said, “Is Jim serious about coming back to SAC?” And she said, 

“Yes, he wants to come back to SAC.”

So later on that evening, he came back over to us and said, “Well, 

think I know a few people in Strategic Air Command. We might get you a good 

assignment to Kincheloe [AFB, Michigan], K. I. Sawyer [AFB, Michigan], 

Minot [AFB, North Dakota], Grand Forks [AFB, North Dakota]—all those 

great northern-tier bases.”8 Unbeknownst to me, he was interviewing me to 

be the first senior enlisted advisor.

Was that, basically, establishing the position?

Exactly.

And how did that work?

Well, SAC was the last command to do it, but I had a lot of good 

mentors that were in the other commands help me establish the position at 

SAC. Plus, I had a great group of chiefs right there in SAC headquarters.

When Gen. [John C.] Myer was the commander of Strategic Air 

Command, he had 12 chiefs. Kind of like the 12 Outstanding Airmen, he 

had 12 chief master sergeants. He would take two or three of them on the 

trip with him, and each time a different one. 

And they probably got together one time, when Gen. Dougherty 

became the commander, and said, “What do we need to do?” He says, “Do 

we keep this program, or should we go to one?” And they unanimously said, 

“Go to one. Go to one.” And fortunately, I was the one.

119
120
121
You were one of the students in the first Senior NCO 

Academy class. What was the curriculum like in 

that first class? 

Well, biggest thing I remember about it is was when we reported 

in. We were stationed in Hawaii, so I came in with my golf clubs, and 

people said, “What have you got there?” I looked at the curriculum, and 

there was a lot of time on our own there, so a couple of us did that. 

But to try to answer your question, the biggest challenge was we 

were there to figure out what we should teach and when we needed to 

teach it, because the Academy was still being built. It was a program that 

needed to be done, and needed to be developed for senior NCOs. We 

kind of took that upon ourselves.

It has changed quite a bit. One of the things you do, 

almost every class, is go down there to talk to the 

students. So you’ve seen it develop into what 

it is today.

Oh, yeah. It’s kind of interesting to look at the class today and 

compare it to what it was 20 years ago when we started bringing the 

former Chief Master Sergeants of the Air Force in. We still had trouble 

with weight. We still had trouble with hair. We still had trouble with 

how to wear your uniform. The force now today is what I envisioned it 

would be when I was Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. And so, I 

think we’ve come a long way in that respect, and we’ve done a great deal 

for—not only for individuals like yourself, but for those young Airmen 

coming behind you.

We’ll skip forward to when you became the sixth 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. Can you 

describe the selection process? How did that 

work for you?

Well, each command could nominate. Some commands 

depending on the size, SAC for example, could nominate three people to 

meet a board in San Antonio [, Texas]. I was one of the three out of SAC. It 

was different than it is today, because today the commands only nominate 

one person. There were 27 or 28 of us that met the board.

It was a general officer, and Chief Gaylor was on the board as 

the present Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. There were several 

colonels, and he was the only enlisted person. Colonels and one general 

officer. So, it was quite an experience.

Well, they pared it down to three of four of us. Four of us had 

to go up to the Pentagon and meet with the DP [deputy chief of staff for 

personnel], which is the A-1 now, the vice chief of staff of the Air Force, and 

the chief of staff of the Air Force. We did not meet with the secretary of the 

Air Force. Today it’s a little bit different.

So, you know, at that time Gen. Lew Allen was the Chief of Staff 

of the Air Force. So we had interviewed with him, and, again, I was the 

SAC senior enlisted advisor, and so I was anxious to find out what was going 

to go on.

Later I was back at SAC Headquarters, and Gen. Allen called 

Gen. [Richard H.] Ellis. The exec answered the phone, and he knew it was 

something about me. That’s all he knew, because Gen. Ellis was very quiet, 

very closed. He closed his doors all the time. 

So he got on what we called squawk boxes in those days, and says, 

“Come up. I need to talk to you.” Well, I knew something was going on and 

the selection had been made. So I walked up the stairs to Gen. Ellis’s office 

and I thought to myself, you know, “What if?” And the other side, “What 

if I don’t?” I had close to 28, 29 years of service, and that would pretty well 

make up my mind. 

So I walked up there and walked in his office, and Col. Murphy was 

the chief of staff, and he was kind of a grouchy old guy, you know. He looked 

me and said, “What do you want?” I said, “Gen. Ellis just called me.” He 

said, “He called you?” “Yes, he did, Colonel, he called me. He wants to see 

me now.”

Gen. Ellis was sitting behind his desk, and he wore Ben Franklin 

glasses like that. He was reading something, and as he looked up, he took 

off his glasses and had a great big smile on his face. Gen. Ellis hardly ever 

smiled. He was just one of those World War II =–type generals and had a 

great career. He said, “Congratulations.” And I thought, “Holy crap.” He 

said, “You’re going to be number six.”

This is a Friday morning, and I said, “Can I tell anybody?” He said, 

“No. You’ve got to wait ’til the message flows.” So I said, “Can I tell my 

wife?” He said, “Oh, yeah.” Well, I was on my way out the door, and his 

aide was sitting there. He knew what was going on, he was a young captain. 

Well, in those days SAC had a looking glass. You know, airborne command 

post. So by the time I got home that night, Friday night, everybody in the 

Strategic Air Command knew I was going to be number six. So, it was 

quite an experience.

122
When you became the Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force, it was an interesting time in our history. It 

was after Vietnam, and we had begun to draw down. 

A lot of people referred to it as the hollow force. 

Why did they use that term?

Because first of all, retention was down and recruiting was down. 

The force was hollow, and we didn’t have enough people on the list to 

get into basic training. When Gen. Allen called me in, he says, “Chief, I 

want you to concentrate on two things. Make sure the recruiters are doing 

their job, and secondly, make sure the MTIs, are doing their job. We got 

to get the right people in. We got to get the right people trained.” So 

that was my chore for two years. And it was tough thing to do because our 

recruiters were just banging, just trying every which way to get anybody 

in. And some of the people they brought in were just dirtbags, if I can use 

a term that, God rest his soul, [CMSAF #9] Jim Binnicker used to use. So, 

we really had to concentrate on watching that they went through basic and 

tech school. It was a difficult time. 

Fortunately, we served during a period of time when we had a 

change of administration, from the Carter administration to the Reagan 

administration. We got to go to President [Ronald] Reagan’s inauguration. 

It was on the west lawn of the Capitol, and it was the day the Iranian 

hostages were released. And you talk about euphoria in our country that 

came out of that. So, yeah, from then it was just, it was a great, great time, 

because Congress was back with us. The American people were back with 

us. I say us: the military.

Sure.

So, I know I talked to my counterparts in the other services, and they 

went through the same thing. The Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy 

came to the office one day, and he said, “Jim, I don’t even have enough senior 

petty officers to put our ships to sea down at Portsmith [Virginia].” So it 

was a tough time. It really was. Retention was horrible, and morale was even 

worse. But with that change of leadership in the government, it all changed.

Was it instant?

Well, I wouldn’t say it was instant, but it was very noticeable that 

it was the right thing for the country to do. I would say from where I sat, it 

was getting to be very noticeable. In about the summer of ’81, right after 

the election, the five senior enlisted of the services went to sit down with 

Sen. Jim Exon [D–NE] who was the senior senator from Nebraska. He 

talked to us and said, “The reason I called you over here is because I want 

to hear from you guys. I was an NCO during World War II. Why are people 

leaving the service?” Well, Bill Connelly [sixth Sergeant Major of the Army] 

pulled out a pay chart and laid it in front of Senator Exon. He said, “You ever 

looked at pay chart, Senator?” And the Senator said, “No, why?” And Bill 

said, “Well, look how many pay raises are over 20 years of service to 22 and 

26. So he said, “Well, we’ll fix that.” Well, it didn’t get fixed until [CMSAF] 

Pfingston’s time, because it just got caught up in conference committees 

and so forth. But that had a lot to do with retention—they knew it was going 

to come because we emphasized it.

One of the other things you focused on was expanding 

your role. When Airey took the position it was new. 

Each chief afterward formalized the position a bit 

more, and you were trying to expand it. Can you 

explain why you were focused on that?

Well, again, it goes back to our focus on retention, to make sure we 

got the right people in the right jobs. During those times I think one of the 

things we did was with the senior NCOs. Master, seniors, and chiefs could 

wear their rank up on the shoulders of their uniform shirt. It was approved 

during our watch, and it stayed until Chief [CMSAF #14 Gerald] Murray 

was the chief. He called me one time, and he said, “We’re going to do away 

with it.” I said, “I’m surprised it lasted this long.” But it was a retention 

thing. And it was trying to get the senior NCOs a little bit more status, a little 

bit more recognition. And it worked. I think it worked.

Paul Airey just ate my backside up one side and down the other. 

Several times he told me, “When I die and go to heaven, I don’t want St. 

Peter to think I’m an officer.” I said, “Paul, don’t worry about that.”

He was upset, and he never did accept that, God rest his soul. 

But Paul Airey was one of my great mentors. I’ll never forget the day that 

I became the chief. I walked back to my office after the ceremony, with 

the US emblem on, and he called me. He said, “I got one piece of advice 

for you, Jim.” I said, “What’s that?” He said, “Stay humble. Stay humble. 

Don’t let it get to your head.” And I hope I did that. I still hope I can be 

humble like that.

123
The position today, I think you would agree, continues 

to expand a little bit. It’s the same, but different. Did 

you ever think that the role would become what 

it is today?

Well, really when I was in it I was hoping that in the future I’d 

see the emphasis that’s being placed on it today. First of all, you’ve got 

to keep in mind that a lot of our senior leadership in the Air Force, the 

officers never had a senior enlisted advisor. They didn’t know what it was. 

So, those of us that were young at the time had to develop the position, 

and I’ve seen the progression.

For example, I think I only testified twice in two years before a 

congressional hearing. Now, Chief [CMSAF #17 James] Cody and the 

rest of the senior enlisted leaders, they’re over there all the time. So, 

yeah, I’ve seen a lot of changes from the fellas following me and up to the 

present day. And, you know, a positive change. The big thing that I respect 

about it is that the following chiefs have kept us involved. We go to senior 

academy. We’re allowed to do that. We’re the only service that does that. 

The other services do not. They don’t take advantage of their former senior 

enlisted leaders.

What do you think that does for us? I think it’s an 

important thing you just mentioned. It’s rare. Why is 

that valuable?

Well, I think the fact that when a new program is developed in the 

Air Force, we’re usually the first ones to learn about it. And, you know, we 

can voice our opinion. It’s tough on the present.

Yeah.

So, I think it’s a plus for the Air Force that they keep the senior 

enlisted leaders around. I don’t know why the other services don’t do that.

We really celebrate our former Chief Master 

Sergeants of the Air Force. You mentioned coming to 

the Senior NCO Academy, we read about them in our 

PDG. Every Airman knows who the past Chief Master 

Sergeants of the Air Force are, which I think is 

another important point. It ties us to our history.

Right.

A couple more questions before I let you go. Let’s talk 

about advice for chiefs. You mentioned Chief Airey 

talked to you in the first few days, saying be humble. 

The chiefs that are leading today in our Air Force, 

what advice do you have for them?

Well, during my career—particularly when I was in SAC—I saw 

people that were supposed to be in a leadership position, the senior enlisted 

advisors in the bomb wing, or tanker wing . . . all they did was drive their 

wing commander around. I said, “That’s not your job. Your job is to inform 

the wing commander. Your job is to tell him what he doesn’t want to hear.” 

That was my big point, tell it like it is. That’s a key to a lot of our leadership 

today, and that’s what we emphasize to young senior NCOs.

Almost 35 years after you retired, you’re still very 

involved in the Air Force. You have a great perspective 

both of young Airmen and our senior NCOs. If you look 

at our Airmen today, and you had to start a sentence 

with “I believe,” what would you say?

I believe what we’re doing is the right thing to be doing. There 

were a lot of things during my career, after my career, and so forth, that, you 

know, I was not in favor of. But by the same token, I got on board. I had to 

quit living in the past. And I tell people that because I hear a lot of people 

that have no idea. They say, “Well the Air Force isn’t like it used to be.” 

Well, it’s not supposed to be like it used to be. It’s not supposed to be like 

when we were serving. Because they’re better.

I look at the education level of our enlisted force today when I go 

to the senior academy. It’s amazing. We’ve got people with PhDs—enlisted 

people with PhDs, master’s degrees. When I retired in 1981, I was one 

of the few chief master sergeants that had a bachelor’s degree. And that’s 

because I came in the service with two-and-a-half years of college. I almost 

got drafted. But I finished, you know, tuition assistance and so forth. So, 

you know, I believe that we’ve got to keep moving forward.

124
125
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Arthur “Bud” L. Andrews

August 1, 1981 - July 31, 1983

Arthur “Bud” Andrews was born 

on 9 March 1934 to a loving mother and 

a father who “was a disciplinarian in the 

true sense of the word.” He was raised 

in Boston with two sisters and a broth-

er and attended the Cathedral of Holy 

Cross, Bancroft, and Rice public schools, 

and the English high school. In 1953 

Andrews decided he “wanted to show at 

least my parents, especially my father, 

that I could do something, hold a job, and 

become something,” so he enlisted in the 

Air Force. 

Andrews served four years as an 

air policeman before separating following his initial enlistment. A year later he 

enlisted again and served tours at Shaw 

AFB, South Carolina; Kadena AB, Japan; Ubon Royal Thai AFB, Thailand; 

and Tyndall AFB, Florida. As a technical 

sergeant assigned to Tyndall, Andrews 

began his first of 10 years as a first ser-

geant, a job he called “one of the most 

rewarding jobs in my career.”

Gen. Lew Allen Jr. selected An-

drews to be the 7th Chief Master Ser-

geant of the Air Force (CMSAF) in the 

summer of 1981. During his tenure, 

Andrews challenged NCOs to focus on 

the Airmen they led and to care for them 

and their families. He focused on cultural 

changes, believing it was time for Airmen 

to “think ‘we’ instead of me, me, me.” 

He also traveled extensively, believing 

it was important for the CMSAF to hear 

from Airmen firsthand. Andrews retired 

from the Air Force on 31 July 1983 but 

continued to motivate and encourage 

Airmen by serving as the deputy execu-

tive director for public relations in the 

Air Force Sergeants Association’s inter-

national headquarters. He passed away 

on 26 October 1996 after complications 

from heart surgery.

The Air Force Historical Re-

search Center interviewed Andrews in 

September of 1986. During the inter-

view, Andrews discussed his experience 

as an air police investigator, his passion 

for the position of first sergeant, and the 

importance of education for enlisted Air-

men. The following are edited excerpts 

from the conversation. 

126
To begin the interview this morning, Chief Andrews, I 

would like to know about your early military service. 

Why did you join?

My driving force, as I look back on it, to join the service was 

patriotism and that type of thing, but I think there was a mood around the 

people I hung around with that that was the thing to do. 

Down deep, my own personal feelings, which I don’t know that I 

mentioned it to anybody until now, were I just didn’t want to hang around 

the corner, smoking cigarettes, whistling at the girls, and getting an 

odd job here and there. I wanted to make something of myself. In fact, I 

wanted to show at least my parents, especially my father, that I could do 

something, hold a job, and become something. Now, bear in mind, I had 

no intentions—absolutely none—except to serve four years and get out, 

and I did. I served four years. That was it, and I got out.

I finished my tour [at Fairfield Air Force Station (AFS), California], 

which was, I think, 18 months or two years, and I got out.1

 I had a 1949 

Cadillac. People say, “Oh, that’s a classic.” Well, in those days it wasn’t 

a classic. It was just a plain old simple used car. I can’t believe it, even 

to this day; that Cadillac did not have a heater in it. I left on the 20th or 

the 21st of January in 1957 and drove through the Mojave Desert and 

Needles [California] and Flagstaff [Arizona]. I ran out of gas and money in 

Wichita Falls, Texas. [Laughter] This is as true as true can be. I went into 

a motel, not an elaborate one, just a motel, and I stayed there. I got up, 

and I looked for a job every day. There’s a great golfer by the name of Lee 

Trevino, and I heard him say one time that you don’t know what pressure 

is until you are making a $2 putt and you don’t have $2 to pay when you 

lose. Now that’s pressure. I would like to mention to Lee Trevino that I 

think what pressure is, is to have a hotel room, or a motel room in my case, 

no money to pay for it, and getting up every day and looking for a job, 

hoping to pay for it at the end of the week.

[A year later], I went back to Boston, Massachusetts, and again 

I stayed with my sister and brother-in-law for about three months. One 

day I woke up—and I knew I was going to do it—left the house early in 

the morning, went to the [South] Boston Army Base in south Boston, and 

said, “I do.” I reenlisted. I lost a stripe because I had been out over 90 

days, or 89 days I think it was in those days, and it was almost 14 months. 

I came home and told my mother after I had done it. [Laughter] She said, 

“You shouldn’t have done it. You should stay.” I had put my application 

in for the state police job. I waited, and I waited, and I didn’t get any 

response or notification, so I kind of got a little discouraged. I just had to 

have something to do. I made the decision that I had better do it now, so I 

went and reenlisted.

When you went in the first time, what career field 

were you in? 

That was really a bucket of worms. Some people are mechanically 

inclined, and some people cannot change a tire. I’m almost to that point. I 

am not mechanically inclined. I’m sorry; I cannot. I can change a tire, but I 

just can’t do mechanical things and take engines apart and put them back 

together again. I don’t understand it, but that’s what I qualified for, at least 

in those days. You really never knew what you were qualified for. To this 

day, I don’t believe it was what you were really best suited for. It was really—

and I’m not saying this was wrong—but it was the need of the Air Force at 

that particular time. I went into the aircraft mechanics—me in mechanics! 

I honestly tried, but I washed out. I washed out of that class at Sheppard 

AFB [Texas]. That was just not my bag—it was not. I washed out, and I went 

through a board. They would determine that I had tried and had done my 

work. I had done my homework, and I just couldn’t adapt to that mechanical 

type of environment of taking things apart, aircraft and everything else.

So I was assigned to the security police at Sheppard AFB, and I was 

very, very happy. That was really the beginning of my Air Force career where 

I started to see things differently. Prior to that, with the mechanics, I was 

dissatisfied. I knew I couldn’t do it. I tried, and I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t 

pleasing myself, and I wasn’t pleasing my instructors. But with the military 

police, I was determined to learn those facets of that job to the best of my 

ability. I can say now after all these years that I believe I’ve done almost 

every facet of the military police that there was—town patrol, security, law 

enforcement investigations, even industrial security. The only thing I didn’t 

do was to handle a canine, which I would have loved to have done. That was 

the only function, I believe, that I did not get to handle in the security police 

field. I stayed within the security police field 13 or 14 years. It was a very 

rewarding career. I had a lot of exciting times in the security police, and I 

accomplished a great deal.

In fact, I guess the highlight of my military career was when I was at 

Shaw AFB [South Carolina]. I arrived there in 1960 or 1961. Of course, 

I was an Airman second class because I had just come back in 1958. I was 

an Airman first class when I got out in 1957, but when I reenlisted I lost a 

stripe. I am a two-striper now, and I’m trying my very, very best to get that 

other stripe, and they are just almost nonexistent during the 1960, 1961, 

1962 timeframe. Very, very few were ever even promoted. I happened to 

get promoted. At that time, they allowed me to just fill in temporarily with 

an investigation that was going on. It was basically a stakeout. They were 

looking for somebody, and so I got that. I was very fortunate—I found the guy 

that we were looking for. I found him in a house in a pantry underneath the 

sink, so they allowed me to stay a little bit longer and then a little bit longer, 

and so I didn’t get out of investigations. I stayed in investigations, which was 

very exciting because no two cases were ever the same, no two robberies, 

no two arsons were the same. The enjoyment I had was finding out who 

did what when I was not there, and I had to put all the pieces together. The 

highlight of my military police career was, again, at Shaw. 

127
Why, while you were at Fairfield AFS, California], 

didn’t you see the Air Force as a career at that 

particular time? 

I came in to do four years, and I was going to do it—and I was going 

to do it honorably. I was going to do as much as I could for that period of 

time. I made Airman first class prior to getting out. I had it almost a year 

before I got out, so I made Airman first class in about just a little over three 

years. That was a good progression. A lot of people who will listen to this 

or read this won’t understand that during the fifties you had to be four 

years plus before you could become an NCO [noncommissioned officer], 

namely staff sergeant. There were no staff sergeants made under four 

years. There was only one way you could be a staff sergeant—you had to 

reenlist. That was automatic. You just were not a staff sergeant with under 

four years. That was just a law of the military.

My time came, and I decided not to reenlist. I was going to go 

back home and see which way I wanted to go. Like I said earlier, I got in 

that Cadillac. . . . Years ago when they released you, they gave you the 

price of bus fare from your discharge point to your home of record. If you 

really put it into perspective, it was really not that much money, and it 

didn’t really get me very far. I had to really watch each and every penny, 

and, even then, I ran out of gas and ran out of money in Wichita Falls, 

Texas. I don’t think that I was extravagant in any sense of the word.

I think if I really sat down and put it all into perspective the reason I 

came back into the service was because of the times. Don’t misunderstand 

me that I was not patriotic; I was. I think we, all of us, come in the military 

for a combination of many reasons, and that’s good. I think it’s wrong and 

it’s unfair for a person to come in for one specific reason; i.e., education, 

travel, or money. If he comes in for a combination of those reasons—

education, travel, excitement, adventure, or whatever you want to call 

it—and he gets a little of each, he’ll be happy. If he gets his education 

and that’s all he wanted, once he gets that, then he leaves everything else 

and he’s out, or he gives up his career and gives up his opportunity. I’m 

not saying don’t come in for an education, but don’t come in just for one 

specific thing. One of the primary reasons I came back in is that here I 

am now, I had spent four years in the service, got out, and stayed a year 

still away from home. I had been home once or twice in those four years. 

I think I had been home in the five years from 1953 maybe 60 days if you 

put them all together. Now here I am. I’m five years, and I come back. I’m 

happy to be home with my family and everything else. That’s not the issue. 

The issue is, the people that I left in 1953, the boys and the guys that I 

hung around with, were still on the corner, still smoking cigarettes, still 

whistling at the girls, and still without a job. After a while I said, “I don’t 

want to become involved in this rut. I don’t want my life to be a measly 

manner of existence.” I saw, even though they were my friends, they did 

not have a goal. They were just getting up and doing nothing. Those who 

were working were working just for pocket money, nothing for a future or 

nothing for a savings. I just said that I had better do something because I 

felt that I would become involved in that rut. Sometimes you can’t see the 

forest for the trees. That’s a truism. I felt that if I stayed there I might fall into 

that trap. Whether unwillingly or willingly, I might just fall into that trap. So 

that’s when I decided.

Back when you were in, was there some stigma 

attached to being in security police? 

Yes. 

As I remember, if you washed out of tech school and 

wound up in—

They gave you transportation, security police, or food service. Nine 

out of 10 guys would have—out of those nine guys, three of them would have 

got security police, the other three got transportation, and the other three 

food service. There’s no doubt in my mind that that’s how it worked.

I saw more to the security police than a lot of people saw, whether 

it was the powers that be or whatever. I saw a good vocation. If I decided to 

get out, at least I would have a vocation: law enforcement. To me it was a 

reputable job. It was a good job, and if you took it to heart, you were helping 

other people for the most part. In the big picture you were doing something 

for society. That’s really how I saw it.

Some people came into the security police for the reason that they 

had a little bit more power, some of the young kids, and they did. The security 

police wielded a great deal of power, especially in those tech schools. We 

have come a long way—oh, have we come a long way. I couldn’t fathom it. 

Here I am, I’m on Sheppard AFB. I’m the low guy on the totem pole because 

I’m a washout, and I’m just in. So these people whom I’m working for and 

who have two and three stripes—I’ve got one stripe on my sleeve—they’ve 

been in the air police since basic so they know all of the ropes. They are the 

experts so to speak. They put me on the ammo dump. They start you off at 

the ammo dump. The ammo dump is the lowest job you can possibly have in 

the security police, at least during those days. In fact, it was so bad that I had 

to report to guard mount 30 minutes early because it took you 30 minutes to 

get out to your post. I had that more times than not. You just walked around 

a barbed wire fence, and there were some boxes in there. It could have been 

ammo; I don’t know what. You just walked around it day and night. But I 

knew that if I did my job and I did it right, I’d get a better job. Sure enough, 

I got Wherry housing, the gate. That doesn’t sound like a big whoop-de-do, 

but when you are working the Wherry housing from an ammo dump, that’s a 

big step up. Then they give you patrol. You ride with somebody on the base 

for your tour of duty. Then, when you really get good, they give you the main 

gate. Now this all took some time. This was not overnight. So I progressed 

from the ammo dump to Wherry housing and then from there to riding on 

the vehicles, the carryall vehicles, and going for the money at the bank on 

pay day because they paid in cash in those days. 

128
We would go down in two or three carryalls, going to the bank, 

and we would wheel it out in big bags and take it to finance. They would 

count it, and 16 or 17 policemen would secure that building for three or 

four days until the money was paid. That was also a good job. You were 

progressing. Then they give you the main gate. That was a big deal, the 

main gate. That’s where everybody saw you, visitors and officers. That’s 

where the main hub of the base was taking place. Then the ultimate, at least 

for Sheppard AFB, was town patrol. If you got town patrol in those days, 

you had your act together, you were clean, you were neat, you knew your 

job, and you were visible to the public of Wichita Falls, Texas, and also to 

help the GIs out. I got town patrol, so I was happy with my assignment. I 

did the ammo dump, the Wherry housing, the patrols, the finance, and the 

main gate, but really the ultimate was town patrol. That was a very, very 

select few.

In those days, the rules, the laws, or the regulations, you didn’t 

deviate from them. Military clothing could not be worn with civilian 

clothing. That was a taboo.

Some of the things that went on in those days in the fifties, if it was 

pouring down rain— I didn’t think it was right, but I had to go along with it 

because I was the low guy on the totem pole—and a guy was coming out to 

go in town and he had his raincoat on, they would make him take it off and 

send him all the way back.

Those days are gone, and we’ve really come a long way. We really 

have. Those weren’t really bad days. I think it was just that the Air Force 

was not all that old. You are talking about 1947, and I am only talking 

about 1953. We are not talking about being that old. I think we had a lot 

of growing pains. The Army had been in existence for 200 years or more 

before, so when they separated, it wasn’t all that traumatic. For the Air 

Force, it was different people. Those are some of the things that were not 

right. We don’t do those things today. I really believe that the Air Force 

takes care of its people today, more so than we had ever dreamed about 15 

and 20 years ago.

Has there ever been any thought given to providing 

counseling for those who have dropped out of not 

only tech schools but washed out of flying school 

and things like that? 

Yes. The percentages of washouts are astronomically lower than 

they were in the fifties and the sixties. I contend that the reason is that 

the testing that’s done as the guy or the gal comes into the service is so 

designed now that we can tell you what you are really benefited for. You’ll 

hear, and I’m sure that people who listen to this or read this who have 

been in for 20 or 30 years will hear, the story that it’s not what you know, 

it’s what they want you to do. I know people and you’ve heard war stories 

or horror stories where this guy had gone through all of the culinary 

schools you could think of. He was a chef and a half. He could prepare the 

meals from nothing, and they sent him to medic school or something. They 

sent him to something that was absolutely directly opposite of what he was 

trained to do. Those days, for the most part and for the vast majority, are 

gone because today when the guy or the gal goes in and goes through the 

recruitment process, there’s a stepping- stone to each and every facet of his 

induction—the testing, the physicals, and everything.

Now bear in mind you can’t please everybody. Not everybody is 

going to get what they want, but I’m positively sure that whatever they do 

get in today’s Air Force they will be able to handle mentally. They may not 

like it, and that may not be their desires, but they will be able to take care of 

it and do a good, professional job. That’s the bottom line. The bottom line 

is that the needs of the Air Force have to come first. If we’ve got a thousand 

people and 950 of them are all placed where they are needed and we need 

50 more in this one here, we can’t put 955 in this other area. We’ve got to 

fill that particular gap, but we won’t fill it with somebody who can’t do it. His 

or her tests will indicate clearly that she or he can handle that particular job.

If they just put away the fact that they don’t want that particular 

job or that particular assignment, they can do it. I think what enhances that 

today more so than it did in the past is that the [NCOs] today explain the big 

picture to these guys and gals. I knew I was a security policeman, but I didn’t 

know the big picture. I didn’t know what I was really doing, what I was going 

to be securing and that type of thing, and where I fit into the picture. I used 

to do a job, and I would go home after I did it, and I didn’t know if I did it 

good or bad. If I did it good, I didn’t know what I really did. You just did your 

job. That was the most important thing. If you didn’t, you were chastised, 

and rightfully so. Today, you not only do your job, but they kind of tell you 

where you fit in what you are doing for the Air Force or for the mission or 

for the country. It’s a little bit more in-depth other than just doing your job. 

For the most part, I think the [NCOs] and the officers alike tell their young 

enlisted troops where they are going, what they are going to do, how they 

are going to achieve it, and what they are going to do for the Air Force when 

they do that.

Did you see this stigma dissipate over the years that 

were attached to these pursuits like security police 

and food service? 

Yes. But you are absolutely right. If you washed out of school, you 

got handled, “Well, you are going to security police.” In other words, you 

were a dropout. That was it. It was really not a good thing for most people. 

Some people tried very, very hard. They wanted to be a mechanic. They lived 

and breathed being a mechanic. Then when they washed out and they got 

security police, food service, or transportation, they were just devastated. I 

think they were devastated not so much because they got that particular job 

but because of the stigma that was attached to it. But as the years went on, 

the military police or the security police—the air police as we called it, AP, 

with the armband and all that—times changed. 

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With everything else, with time, education, and experience, we 

got some fine leaders in there who made the military police, the air police, 

the food service, or the transportation a meaningful part of the total 

organization. I guess it goes back to the fact they had to do something 

with the guy or the gal who dropped out. A lot of people didn’t want to 

go into the military police or to transportation or food service. Those 

were the ones that were lacking in personnel numbers wise, and that’s 

where they kept throwing them. Coupled with that, there was a stigma 

attached to it.

Look at it today. Transportation is a very meaningful part of the 

Air Force. Stop and think about it. You can’t go anywhere without it. We’ll 

just say let’s talk about Logistics Command.2

 People say, “That’s a little 

nickel and dime outfit,” but let me tell you something. If we were to have a 

major conflict, a major war, I’ll tell you what, I don’t care how many F-16s 

and F-18s you’ve got, without Logistics Command you can’t survive—you 

cannot survive. Logistics, that’s getting part A to part B in a timely fashion. 

Am I right or wrong? Sometimes people think that—and I don’t think they 

do it with any prejudice—the aircraft is very important, but I’ve always 

contended, no matter how much we’ve paid for that aircraft, $25 million, 

$26 million—and I don’t care what the numbers are, and I don’t care how 

educated and how smart that pilot is—it doesn’t make a difference. You 

can get the biggest—just pick a name—[Brig Gen Charles E.] “Chuck” 

Yeager. I like Chuck Yeager, and I know Chuck Yeager. With him, a wellknown man, he’s versatile; he’s experienced; he’s a great pilot; and he’s 

a great Air Force leader. Put him in the best aircraft we’ve got, but he 

can’t take off the ground unless that mechanic, that one-striper, pulls the 

chocks. That’s one way of looking at it. Or we’ll pull the chocks. Okay, he 

still can’t go until that young guy from transportation of the fuels puts fuel 

in there. And he still can’t get off the ground unless the avionics man has 

done his job. If he takes off, he still can’t do his job unless he can land. It’s 

just not one man anymore. It’s a combination of many, many, many people 

that are going to make the Air Force what it is today, and that’s how it is 

today—a combination of many, many, many people.

I think many years ago it was this outfit versus that outfit or this 

organization against that organization. I am happy to say that I think that 

those days are gone. I think they are bygone days, if you will. They are days 

of the past. The organizations, the transportation, logistics, Air Force 

Systems Command, all of those organizations are an integral part of the 

big picture.3 They always were, even back in the fifties, but people didn’t 

associate the air police with transportation and transportation with food 

service. But just think of it, those guys who walked those ammo dumps, 

or worked town patrol, or whatever they did, how much could they work 

them if they didn’t get fed through the mess hall? They have to eat. Look 

at the transportation guy. You couldn’t do your job if you didn’t have a 

vehicle to do it. You couldn’t walk the base, not proficiently. I think it 

was not me against them and all that. I think they were just organizations, 

and I just don’t believe, at least during my tenure in the fifties, that there 

was that feeling of unity. It was this organization against that organization 

and that type of thing. I left in August of 1983, and they have really come 

a long way.

Well, let’s get you back getting into your second 

tour in the Air Force. You mentioned that you got into 

investigative work. Were you ever in some type of 

formal training for this, or did you just do it 

on the job?

I did it on the job. Everybody has a forte to a certain extent. I do 

like investigative work or that type of a job. I listen to people, and when 

they say things, my mind automatically starts to gear up as to why they said 

it and where they said it. It’s not so much that I am critical of what they said, 

but I listen to people, and I can, more times than not, tell you if somebody 

is blowing smoke up my nose. [Laughter] I guess what I really liked about 

the investigative work was the excitement of putting together a puzzle: 

basically a crime. When you were home asleep or 500, 200, or 100 miles 

away, somebody did something. Then you went in there after he had done 

it or after they had done it, and you put all of the pieces back together 

again exactly how they did it, yet not being there when it was done. I really 

thrived on that. My military career, as far as the security police, was very, 

very rewarding. I was involved in solving simple larceny to murder. Arson, 

child molestation—I did it all. To me it was very rewarding to find what had 

happened when I wasn’t even there and putting all the pieces back together 

again, even if it was an automobile accident which involved a fatality on a 

rain-slick highway. You got there half an hour afterwards, and you put all the 

pieces together. That’s what I was excited about. I liked that, but I never had 

any formal training.

Did you come to the attention of your superiors as 

being adept at this sort of thing? 

The only thing I can say is yes, and I say that with modesty. At Shaw 

AFB when they gave me that stakeout looking for an NCO—I think he was 

a master sergeant—they had been looking for him for a long time, and they 

knew that he was going to come back. They felt certain that he was going to 

come back to this house. He lived off base. I was put on the stakeout, and I 

did it day in and day out.

Now stakeouts, when you watch television, it’s done in 30 minutes 

or maybe an hour. [Laughter] You sit there for countless hours, six, seven 

hours, and it’s very, very difficult sometimes because it’s not always the best 

of weather. If it’s cold out, you can’t turn on your car because now people 

will know that you are in your car or keeping warm, which is also a safety 

factor. If it’s hot, well, you’ve got to contend with the elements, and it’s not 

as glamorous as people or as television lead you to believe it is. It’s boring, 

and it’s tiring. Then you go home and go to bed, and you get up and do the 

same thing the next day.

This particular time that I was picked to do it, I got the job for the 

surveillance because the NCO—he was a staff sergeant, and here I was a twostriper—was off somewhere. I got it because they needed a stakeout. I went 

with another master sergeant, and we staked out. We were pretty certain 

that he was in the house. Somebody was moving around in it. 

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We went into the house—and my partner, the NCO, said, “We 

must have been mistaken.” I said, “Let’s look a little.” We looked a little 

bit further, and I looked underneath the kitchen cabinets—why, I don’t 

know. I’ll be honest with you. It scared the hell out of me. [Laughter] 

I’m looking for the guy, but I’m not thinking I would find him under the 

kitchen cabinet under the sink. He had gotten in there, and I didn’t know if 

he was armed or anything else, but that’s where I found him. Anyway, I got 

the job, and one thing led to another. I got other jobs in the investigative 

field, where I uncovered larceny at finance, and somebody robbed the 

commissary, and we got him. At the time, to me it was a big, important job.

When did you get your third stripe back again?

I got it in 1961. I got it there at Shaw AFB. This may not 

sound familiar to a lot of people, but I got it under what they call EWQ, 

exceptionally well qualified. There were only so many stripes. In fact, 

Shaw AFB got seven first class Airman stripes. Seven, and that was it for 

the entire base, all AFSCs [Air Force specialty code] and everything else. 

In those days you had to meet a board. You would meet the commander 

and a bunch of NCOs. I met NCOs one day, and then I met the commander 

the next. I made my Airman first class stripe under what they call EWQ.4

So, that’s when I got my stripe back. I came back in 1958, but I made my 

stripe back in 1961, and that was fast. At that time, it may not have seemed 

it, but that was very, very fast. Then I went to Okinawa [Japan] from there, 

and they put me in investigations there, and I worked investigations.

Did your name just come up for Okinawa, or did you 

put in for it? 

My name came up. I was kind of surprised because I hadn’t been 

there that long. I went to Okinawa. I got there, and, of course, they look 

at your records, your performance reports. My performance reports 

reflected investigative, and that was what I had been doing earlier; so, they 

put me in there.

Were you still single during this period?

Yes. 

When did you get married? 

I got married in 1969 when I went to Panama City, Tyndall AFB 

[Florida], and I came from Okinawa in April 1965. I met Shirley there. She 

was a schoolteacher at Moffett High School. She was a phys ed [physical 

education] teacher. It was a blind date.

Military-wise, I was at the security police there, and I had an 

opportunity. The base commander asked for me, and I got it by name. 

This was during the height of Vietnam, 1965, 1966, 1967, when people 

were going over almost on no-notice, seven-day, or 14-day notice. The 

protocol NCO for the base, a tech sergeant, got an overnight shipment to 

Vietnam; so, I was asked to go in and fill in just for a short period of time—a 

few months. Those few months ended up to be almost 18 months. I was the 

NCO of protocol, and I worked directly for the base commander—functions, 

dining-ins and -outs, and all that. It’s not as glamorous as some people 

think. [Laughter] You needed to know your protocol. You needed to know 

who was coming in, especially the black-tie affairs and that type of thing. It 

was a nice job.

I had a major I worked for. His name was Sterling H. Elmore. He 

was a good commander, but he was not a popular commander. He was not a 

popular commander for the air police. He was not popular at all. I think he 

wasn’t popular because he didn’t allow anybody to do anything. He had to 

be a part of whatever situation was going on. I don’t think he trusted people 

to their fullest. He always had his finger in whatever was going on within 

the organization, whether it was the first sergeant’s business or whatever. 

People took offense to that. They felt like they weren’t being allowed the 

opportunity to show what they could do for the organization. He became a 

little upset because I was working outside my AFSC, which was air police. 

The IG [inspector general] came in one day, and they also looked at the air 

police. He said, “Listen, this NCO over there is outside his AFSC.” I was a 

tech sergeant. I need to share that with you . . . I had made my promotion to 

staff sergeant and tech sergeant in Okinawa, but when I left the promotions 

hadn’t been released, so about a month later I got a message saying I was a 

tech sergeant. I was a tech sergeant at the security police and also protocol. 

He told the IG that I was working outside my AFSC and he wanted me 

back. Well, I had seen another side of the Air Force that I hadn’t seen. I had 

done the security police work, but I had seen another section. [The base 

commander] said that I had to go back, and I said, “Is there anything else I 

can do?” He said, “No, not really. My hands are tied.” I said, “Well, I would 

like to be a first sergeant if I could.”

To make a long story short, he put in the request for the first 

sergeant. This was just a very brief time in the Air Force history that they 

selected tech sergeants to be first sergeants. Within a year you had to pass 

the test and be promoted or else you reverted back to your other AFSC. In 

other words, you couldn’t stay in there indefinitely. You only had a period 

of time as a tech sergeant first sergeant to be master sergeant or else you had 

to go back to your other AFSC. The Air Force sent back a message to [the 

base commander], and they gave me 13 different assignments that I could 

have applied for. Not one of them was Tyndall AFB, and I wanted to stay 

there. The first sergeant, who was a master sergeant, was working for the 

transportation squadron at Tyndall. The powers that be made arrangements 

for him to go to CBO [Consolidated Base Personnel Office] because he was 

an ex-personnel man. He was willing to go back to personnel in his AFSC, 

and they would put me in there with transportation. So, I did get to stay at 

Tyndall, and I worked for a Maj. Forbes. He was the commanding officer, 

a good commanding officer. He knew his troops, and he got things done. I 

stayed there, and I was Tyndall’s first and only and youngest tech sergeant 

first sergeant. It’s somewhere in the archives that I was the youngest tech 

sergeant and only tech sergeant in Tyndall AFB history.

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I made master sergeant the first go-round. I made it six months 

later, so I did very well. I made staff, tech, master, E-8, and E-9 with the 

minimum time in grade. I was a chief master sergeant at 19 or 20 years.

You mentioned in (the past) that your time as first 

sergeant was one of the most gratifying periods of 

your career.

It was. I guess the reason I really wanted to be a first sergeant 

was that every first sergeant that I had going up prior to becoming a first 

sergeant, I cannot recall one not being professional. Well, now that I 

think about it, I can find one. He knew his job absolutely inside and out, 

but there were some gray areas with him. I think for the most part first 

sergeants treated me very, very well. They were concerned about my 

future, and I saw that as a positive sign. So, I wanted to be a first sergeant 

for a combination of reasons. First of all, I considered it to be the most 

important enlisted job in the organization. I thought it was the nerve 

center and that you could influence people much better as a first sergeant 

than you could as an NCOIC [noncommissioned officer in charge] of a 

section. An NCOIC of a section was limited to that section, but as a first 

sergeant, you had all the sections under your control in your approach to 

things, your professionalism, and your leadership. I think people saw you 

in a different light. I tried very hard to display professionalism in every 

sense of the word. I believe in professionalism. Even today I believe in it, 

whether you work in the military or civilian life. If you are a professional, I 

think you will go much further than if you’re not.

You had to be a lot of things as far as a first sergeant. I think first 

sergeants don’t get the credit that they honestly deserve because they are 

a combination of so many things. They are a father confessor. They are an 

intermediary for domestic problems. There are alcohol problems; there 

are drug problems; there are domestic problems; and there are discipline 

problems. Not everything is negative, but they have a lot of those things 

going on, and they have to be able to handle it and to keep the mission 

going. If everybody came in with a problem and it wasn’t solved, it 

wouldn’t take very long, and you wouldn’t have an outfit. It was good, and I 

enjoyed it.

Speaking of the Vietnam era, many of the 

interviewees that I’ve talked to, military members, 

resented the fact that they became the whipping 

boys for the Vietnam situation, and they felt it was 

purely due to the ineptitude of our political leaders 

that made them the whipping boys instead of the 

other way around. 

I think you are right, more so than you are not. I guess if I had to 

put some sort of a picture as to how the American GI was held back during 

the Vietnam War, if you could picture a military Soldier, however you image 

him, and have one hand tied behind his back, that’s how I looked upon the 

Vietnam War. But if you turn that Soldier around, I think you will honestly 

see, in my mind’s eye, a group of politicians holding his arm. That’s how I 

looked at it.

But even though I didn’t agree with all of the political views, I had to 

believe in the orders that were given by my superiors. I said it time and time 

again, that we came into the military, swearing some sort of an allegiance, 

to obey our country, the laws, and the officers appointed. To me that’s a 

solemn oath. I don’t think you or I or anybody can take that and say, “I will 

do this, but I’m not going to do that,” and “I’ll do this, but I won’t do that.” 

It’s not being robotic. It’s not just being some sort of robot for somebody 

with periscope vision and not having some sort of a thought process of a 

decision of your own, but it’s necessary that you listen to the superiors. 

In the event that they are not giving you the orders and they are doing an 

injustice or a damage to our way of life and everything else, there are all 

kinds of means of getting around that, either legislative or congressional or 

just retiring from the military, if you feel that bad about it. I just don’t think 

that people can pick and choose what orders or policies that they are going 

to accept. They cannot pick and choose. I don’t think we are in that kind of a 

job. And it isn’t any different if you work for Delta, Anheuser-Busch, or any 

major corporation, GTE, Chrysler. When Lee Iacocca or August Busch III 

says, “This is what I want, and this is how I want the operation to work,” you 

are not going to say, “Well, I’ll do this, sir, but I’m not going to do that.” 

How long would you have a job? So, it isn’t just the military. The impact 

on the military is that if you don’t do it, you could very well put yourself or 

your country behind the eight ball; whereas, you are putting a company’s 

statistics or their percentages of growth and net profit where you could hurt 

them. When you are talking with a military guy and gal about disobeying 

orders and policies and picking and choosing, you are not talking about a 

gross net profit at the end of the year. You are talking about freedom or 

the lack of it that you are going to have if you continue. You can’t pick and 

choose what orders and what policies and what rules or regulations you are 

going to adhere to—not in the military.

You were a first sergeant of the 483rd Organizational 

Maintenance Squadron at Cam Ranh Bay [Vietnam]. 

What types of personnel problems were you faced 

with? Were they any different there than what you 

had experienced prior to your arrival there?

No. The biggest problem in that organization was drugs, to be very 

honest with you. I mean cocaine. If you were devious and had that kind of 

a way about you—and I’m sure some tried—you could make a great deal of 

money, but maybe not so much there because the little vials that they were 

selling for maybe $2 was anywhere from 96 to 97 percent pure. That was, in 

the eyes of those who use it, the best there was. 

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That same vial, back in the States, was cut down maybe 30, 40, 50 

times. What was happening to our troops over there—not only the fact that 

they were taking it and were getting hooked, and, of course, destroying the 

mission in many, many respects because if you are on that stuff, there is no 

way you can handle the mission. We are not talking about just getting up 

and flying around for a Sunday afternoon. We are getting up and flying on 

a very, very important mission. In addition to that, the guy would go back 

if he got undetected. Now if he was to buy it on the street he would have to 

buy it at maybe 50 or 60 times more than what he had to pay for it there, 

and it wasn’t one-third as far as potency as what he had over there, so he 

was really spending hundreds of dollars a day just to keep up with what 

he was getting there for $2 or $3. We did have quite a bit of a problem in 

Southeast Asia.

Were you able to turn this around? 

Yes, I think we all did because we caught them. The awareness 

that we had a problem was very, very evident. It was mostly the younger 

troops. I think I found in our organization one tech sergeant that may have 

been involved, and the rest were these two- and three-stripers. Why just 

the young stripers and not the senior NCOs? That’s debatable. During the 

whole tenure there, I think we only had one NCO who was involved, and 

he was not only using it, but I think he was selling it. That was more of a 

serious crime than just the use of it. I think we turned it around, not just in 

my organization but in all the organizations because of the efforts of very 

responsible people. I say again, the first sergeants were a very focal point 

and the commanders and also the OSI [Office of Special Investigations]. 

In that organization of people, I think we turned it around a great deal but 

nothing like we would have liked to. You don’t want to see that.

Was this a 12-month tour that you were 

over there on? 

Yes. I think I came back a little bit early though. It may have been 

10 months. I think what happened is that they really got an influx of military 

personnel. Even though your 12 months were up, you really didn’t get to 

go home unless you had a replacement. In an organization of a thousand 

people and you are going home, they wanted to have a replacement. I 

think I left there at probably nine and a half or 10 months, maybe about 

two months early, because there was an influx of first sergeants coming 

into the field, and I was happy.

How did you wind up at Keesler [AFB, Mississippi]? 

I went to Keesler from Cam Ranh as a first sergeant, and I had the 

student squadron.

Did you want that sort of thing, or was that 

just automatic?

I can’t recall what my dream sheet was for what base I wanted, but 

Keesler was fine. I had no objections with Keesler. I had never been down 

there—well, I was years and years ago only for about maybe 30 or 40 days 

when I first came in the service. It was a good assignment. I had the 3392nd 

Student Squadron, and it was a good assignment. All in all, it was a busy 

assignment. I had a lot to do. I think the busyness came about not so much 

from the numbers but because every six weeks we would receive x number 

of troops from Lackland [AFB, Texas] on a bus. This was their very, very 

first touch of what you call the military after Keesler. This was their first 

indoctrination as to how they were going to be looked at and serve either 

in the tech training school or at their first assignment. It was challenging. 

First of all, the basic military training, they kind of take them from a rainbow 

type of a situation, with all kinds of colors of clothes and hats and everything 

else, and just kind of put them into an organized group. They give them to 

the units, and now it’s the units’ time to pick up exactly where Lackland 

left off and mold them into regular, honest-to-goodness Airmen or military 

members. I think the basic military training schools are really doing their 

jobs. They were putting those men and women out.

As I remember Keesler, I would see a troop get off the bus, and 

he would almost walk at attention and would salute almost anything that 

walked. Everything was “Sir,” and it was brisk, but it wasn’t three or four 

weeks later that if you looked at that same individual that you saw, you 

wouldn’t see that “Yes, Sir” and “No, Sir.” Sometimes it would be “Yeah,” 

and the briskness was gone. It really bothered me a great deal. I blame the 

personality drop or the military drop—I don’t know how you want to call 

it—the change, from three or four weeks ago when he got off that bus from 

Lackland to what he is today, on supervisors. You don’t have to give them 

the same regimented thumbs-on that you did at Lackland. Lackland was 

nothing but molding that guy or gal. I think what happened was that they 

allowed them too much freedom at one specific time. They got off that bus 

and had never seen anything, and all of a sudden they were basically free to 

go and do what they wanted to do. I think it was too quick, too fast, and I 

know that some of the NCOs in the managerial or the supervisory capacity 

allowed that young Airman to be too familiar with the supervisor. I think it 

just broke down from there. It was so evident. I had more discussions on 

this, and I talked about this so many times. You couldn’t believe it . . . a man 

would get off that bus on the first day of April in 1978, and four weeks later 

you couldn’t recognize him in a crowd. He was not that polished guy.

Were you able to change anything? 

I think I changed it as far as the organization. We NCOs talked 

about it. That also was a period of time of familiarity. NCOs didn’t feel 

that it was any big deal to be very familiar with the one-striper. Don’t get 

me wrong. I’m not saying that they weren’t equal. They were equal as an 

individual and as a personality and as an education, but as far as grades, they 

were not equal—and they cannot be equal. 

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Out of that little scenario that we talked about being polished, 

being ready, and being willing to serve and organized and disciplined 

from basic and all of a sudden, “Don’t ‘Sir’ me. You are not in basic 

anymore.” From there it got to the point where the young Airman was 

confused. He really was confused. I’ve had them tell me that they didn’t 

understand how it could be so different. When they went to basic they 

were not willing to accept any of this, but they were in fear, not petrified 

fear but fear that they had to do the right thing, fear of the unknown. They 

didn’t know what was going to happen if they didn’t do it. They weren’t 

going to be beaten. They didn’t know what was going to happen; so, they 

did it out of fear. But it didn’t take but maybe seven to 14 days, and they 

realized what they were doing and that now they were working as a unit. 

In basic military training today, I’m convinced that if you and I were to 

go down there today and go through that process, you and I would not 

graduate, not at all, unless we were a team player. You can’t graduate from 

basic military training today unless you are a team member. So this young 

Airman got this team-oriented thing, and all of a sudden he’s told, “Don’t 

‘Sir’ me. You are not in basic military training anymore.” Whatever 

the TIs [training instructors], the drill instructors, did was destroyed 

in a matter of seconds. That bothered me quite a bit. Things have 

changed now.

It was during that period that you also attended 

the Senior Noncommissioned Officer Academy at 

Gunter [AFB, Alabama]. How did you greet the idea of 

attending that particular course?

I ran. I was told by some NCOs, “You don’t need that. Don’t 

worry about it. You’ll get promoted anyway, so don’t worry about it.” It 

wasn’t so much getting promoted with or without it. It was an opportunity. 

I didn’t do as well as I could have done in school . . . and I didn’t want to 

lose an opportunity again. Here I had an opportunity to go to school with 

some of the top NCOs in the country and some of the best faculty. These 

people were experts in their field, and I did not want to pass that up. 

It was nine weeks, but I didn’t want to pass it up. So I absolutely 

ran, and I did not get selected for the second class. The first class was 

already picked when it all came down through the channels. The class was 

already picked, and that was a very prestigious class. [CMSAF Thomas 

N.] Barnes was in it, I think, and [CMSAF James M.] Jim McCoy was in it. 

A lot of top NCOs were in it. I didn’t get the second class because I was 

passed over, but I was selected for the third class, so I went to 73-C. It was 

one of the highlights of my career. For such a short period of time, nine 

weeks, it was good.

Can you give me a brief synopsis of the sort of things 

that you dealt with in that nine weeks?

Just everything—human relations, management, and leadership. I 

guess the best thing that I got out of it was the classroom exchange between 

the other NCOs on world affairs and issues. The auditorium was fine. You 

went there and listened to guest speakers who were very, very polished and 

very, very versed on whatever the subject may be, but I think the benefit I 

derived was from the classroom exchange. This was the first time that I had 

ever really sat in that kind of a 12-, 16-, or 18-man class, which is small, and 

really exchanged our thoughts. There was academic freedom, where you 

could say what you wanted to say. The school helped you in so many ways. It 

made me a better NCO. I thought I was a good NCO when I went there, but 

I know I became a better NCO because of that school. The only thing I can 

say to whomever is eligible to go to that school is that they should go.

The story during the first five or seven years of that school was that, 

“I’m an E-8, and I’m a chief. What can you teach me?” That was not the 

attitude to have. It was kind of prevalent though, and a lot of people didn’t 

want to go to the school. There were a lot of good NCOs who didn’t want 

to go for a combination of many reasons—maybe the family separation, 

and maybe they’ve got 24, 25, 26 years, and they are already a chief. They 

can’t get promoted by going to the school. But I have yet to hear from an 

NCO who went to that school and said he didn’t enjoy it. He’s happy, and 

he came back saying, “You’ve got to go.” That’s probably pretty much 

predominant throughout the leadership schools in the Air Force and the 

other academies—the NCO Academy down at Kirtland AFB [New Mexico] 

or whatever base you want to pick. I have seen countless times where people 

left their organization dragging their heels, leaving their heel marks on the 

pavement, and then coming back and probably being the best spokesman 

for that school than anybody else could have ever been. I have seen that time 

and time and time again.

What grade were you when you attended? 

I was an E-8. 

Was that generally the makeup of the class?

The majority were E-8s. There were chiefs in there, and some of 

them didn’t want to be there. It was a new school, and in 1973 it was only 

the third class. Was it going to fall through the proverbial crack another year 

from now? There were mixed emotions. Was the school going to be funded? 

Was it going to get better, or was it just going to be one of those flashes in 

the pan? All those kinds of comments came out: “Why should I spend nine 

weeks there, and next year it will be disintegrated?” That was some of it.

As you and I can see today, it’s not only there but it’s bigger, better, 

and stronger than it has ever been. The support came basically from the 

Air University [AU] and Air Training Command, or, technically speaking, 

Air Training Command, and then it reverts to AU, am I right? Today the 

emphasis and the support, although it’s under AU, really comes down from 

the Air Staff. They support it, and they believe in it. There are not too many 

schools that you get three- and four-star generals to come to and to address. 

The chief of staff of the Air Force, Gen. [Lew, Jr.] Allen, came down there 

and spent two hours down there on the stage. He told them what he thought 

and what was going on and fielded their questions. 

136
Gen. [Charles A.] Gabriel went down there, at least once if not 

twice. Gen Alton D. Slay went down there. These are times where people of 

this caliber and position are wrapped up in major, monumental decisions 

for the defense of the country, but they find time to go down there and to 

tell them what’s going on and also to hear how they feel about whatever. 

I gained a great deal from just being there. I applaud it. I think it’s one of 

the best institutions the Air Force has as far as the learning process. I just 

think it can’t do anything except get better.

Let’s talk about the senior enlisted advisor position. 

What do you think of the concept of senior 

enlisted advisor?

I think the program is very good. I think it’s beneficial in that the 

senior enlisted advisor, whether at the base or the wing level, is the eyes 

and the ears of the commander of that base or that wing. The philosophy 

that I think that the enlisted advisor should be doing is having a pulse on 

the enlisted corps within that organization that he’s working with. No 

matter how good or how energetic or how many hours the commander 

or wing commander works, he can’t get down into all of those trenches as 

often as the enlisted advisor. So, he is really basically the eyes and ears of 

that commander.

I think the program, when it first started out, was probably not 

meant to do what it’s doing today. When it first came out . . . people would 

just go directly from their job site right to the base commander’s office. 

In putting in this position as the senior enlisted advisor, that was going 

to be the door that the young man was going to come to, and it was the 

responsibility of the enlisted advisor to solve that man’s problem before 

it got any further. In other words, in a sense maybe it was just a roadblock 

or a hurdle—but not in the sense that it was to diminish the guy or the 

gal coming up. It was to take the load off of the base commander or the 

wing commander and that echelon and let the enlisted advisor work the 

problem as much as he possibly could. He had the authority and the green 

light to go to the people who could solve that problem, whether it was the 

commander of the medics if it was a medical problem, or he could pick up 

the phone and call the commander of finance if it was a finance problem. 

He had the authority to do what the base or the wing commander would 

have done. But, as it turned out, it not only went from that but it went 

to other things, mission-oriented things. It got bigger and bigger and 

bigger, where the enlisted advisor was doing more and more and more. 

That’s not bad, but it’s just that he’s got more of an area of responsibility 

today than he did back when it first started, and there’s nothing wrong 

with that. I think it’s working fine.

Some of your predecessors—

Who are they? (laughter)

[CMSAF] Paul Airey for one—

Paul Airey, the godfather. (laughter) 

—was very upset with the title “Senior Enlisted 

Advisor.” He called it a “namby-pamby, nondescript 

title” that he wasn’t the least bit happy with. He 

wanted to call it “Chief Master Sergeant of MAC 

[Military Airlift Command]” or “Chief Master Sergeant 

of SAC [Strategic Air Command],” but his successors all 

vetoed the idea. They felt that it would detract 

from the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

position, and it never caught on. How do you feel 

about that title?

Let me say two things. I consider Paul Airey an honest-to-goodness 

friend and professional, equally. I consider him my friend. I’ve known him 

since 1976. I’ve known him whether he’s known me; that’s something else. 

But I do not agree with Paul that there should be a Chief Master Sergeant 

of TAC [Tactical Air Command] or SAC or MAC or Logistics or Systems 

Command or whatever. I think that the title of Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force—that’s it. There should be nothing else. They shouldn’t have 

any addendums to that or Chief Master Sergeant of TAC. There’s only one 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. I think that’s the only way it should 

be, and they should not piggyback on that.

Senior enlisted advisor, what else can you call it? Base sergeant 

major? Now we are getting back into an Army terminology. We separated 

back in 1947 and became different, distinct, separated from the Army. Now 

we are the US Air Force, not the Army Air Corps. We needed to take new 

changes in titles and everything else. I think that senior enlisted advisor, 

after all of the conversation about it, will probably survive between now and 

whenever. I think all of the rhetoric and all of the discussion about changing 

the title has worn itself out. Personally, I don’t think it will ever change. I 

think it’s here to stay. There may be a better title for it. I don’t know what it 

would be. I hope sincerely that nobody tries to tack on a title saying “Chief 

Master Sergeant of” because there’s only one “Chief Master Sergeant of,” 

and that’s “of the Air Force.” If you start putting little additions on to that, 

I think you honestly will lessen the position that goes with that title. That’s 

my personal opinion.5

137
WAPS [Weighted Airman Promotion System] was 

implemented in June 1970 after extensive research 

by the Air Force Human Resources Laboratory. From 

your viewpoint, how successful has the WAPS 

system been?

Totally successful, in my estimation. I don’t think that you’ve got 

from the predecessors of the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force any 

response other than that. WAPS is an absolute super program. I guess 

the Air Force has done as much for the enlisted guy and gal for their 

progression as is humanly possible. Simple, to the point, WAPS is here to 

stay, and it’s accepted—that’s the key word. It’s accepted by the enlisted 

force. It may not have been at the outset, because there were grumblings 

that it’s here today and maybe not tomorrow. That’s what probably 

bothers some people sometimes. Like the NCO Academy or the Senior 

NCO Academy: “It’s here today. Why should I go? It’s not going to be 

here next week.” There was that fear that it may not be here and it was 

maybe just a flash in the pan. It’s accepted, and it’s here to stay.

What are your views on the Community College 

of the Air Force (CCAF)? 

Coming from an individual who really didn’t put his mind to the 

academics, I support any kind of an educational program, whether it’s 

the very basic leadership schools within the squadrons or the Community 

College of the Air Force. Just education in itself is just another avenue in 

which you can better yourself economically, emotionally, or mentally. I 

support CCAF. I don’t think we have enough. There are a lot of people in 

there. I don’t know what the figures are now, but I wish there were more 

people because today the Airman and the NCO or the enlisted corps has 

probably more time for that type of an education than they did many, many 

years ago. The reason that they have more time is that things are more 

organized today than they were 25 years ago. Things are just so much 

better organized, and people have more time, but I don’t think enough 

of the people are taking advantage of the Community College of the Air 

Force and other programs. Some are, but not as many as I would like to 

see probably.

One of the criticisms about not just the Community 

College of the Air Force but also the idea of getting 

a degree is that it has created the illusion in some 

Airmen’s minds of “Look, I’ve got a diploma now. I’ve 

got a degree. Promote me.” I think it was Paul Airey 

that pointed out that there’s much more to it than 

simply walking in with that diploma.

He’s right, and we’ve got to be mindful of the individual that 

walks around with that perception. Hopefully it’s not running rampant 

throughout the Air Force or throughout the military services. That 

parchment is only a portion of what has to be accomplished. You can put 

the piece of diploma or the parchment and time in grade into two different 

categories. Just because you’ve got time in grade does not mean that you are 

worthy of promotion; I’m sorry. There are individuals who feel that because 

they have x number of years or they’ve got the exact number of months’ time 

in grade for the next promotion that they should be automatically promoted. 

By the same token, this guy or gal walks in and says, “Listen, I’ve got so many 

credits and so many degrees. I need to be promoted.” There’s a lot more to 

it than that. You’ve got to have the experience, and you’ve got to have all the 

things necessary to be upgraded. Time in grade or the parchment, those are 

two individual things.

In an Air Force Times article dated 16 November 1981 

you noted, “The new two-tier promotion system is 

necessary to correct serious imbalances.”6

 This 

plan “gives shortage skills higher percentages of 

promotions in grades E-5, E-6, and E-7 to improve 

retention and encourage retraining into them.” 

In retrospect, how did this two-tier promotion 

system work out?

I don’t think it worked out as well as the Air Force envisioned it. 

The thought process and the motivation behind it was honorable. I just 

don’t think it had the backing, to be honest with you, of the majority of the 

working group within the Air Force. I don’t know what my predecessors may 

have said about that. I think the intentions of the program were honorable, 

but by the same token I don’t think it solved any of the problems that it 

was trying to solve. It was a means to the end, but it didn’t get there as the 

Air Force envisioned.

The bottom line to that is that I just don’t think it had the meat or 

the substance as the Air Force envisioned it to solve some of the imbalances 

and that type of thing. There was probably a great deal of animosity from 

people who were not in those positions, and they were being bypassed 

and promoted. I don’t think it did all that the Air Force would have liked 

it to have done. It was an honorable attempt to solve some of the problems, 

but I don’t think it solved the problems to the extent like TOPCAP [Total 

Objective Plan for Career Airman Personnel] solved a great number of the 

problems and WAPS solved problems. Even in those instances, you didn’t 

please everybody. Nobody was all satisfied. But I think on this particular 

program there was probably more dissatisfaction than there was acceptance 

of the program.

138
The 16 November 1981 Air Force Times noted that you 

supported the Stripes for Exceptional Performers 

(STEP) program, “which allows commanders to make 

a limited number of promotions to E-5, E-6, and E-7 

without regard to an individual’s time in grade or 

test scores.” This system appears to counter the 

WAPS reforms, which were designed to do away with 

commanders showing preferential treatment to fairhaired boys. How did the STEP program work out?

While I was in, it worked out very well. Again, not everybody 

in the world was for it. If you weren’t promoted under it, you probably 

weren’t for it. [Laughter] If you were promoted under it, it was the best 

thing since Post Toasties. It was to get away from the time in grade and 

the testing. If I go back, in retrospect, and think about it, the reason STEP 

was put out, Stripes to the Exceptional Performer, is that some people are 

absolutely superior people, but for some reason or other—it wasn’t just 

designed because a guy or a gal couldn’t take a test. It was a combination 

of just absolutely many, many things, not just his ability or lack of ability 

to take a test. It was based on his professionalism, his leadership abilities, 

his qualities, and his work habits. This guy or gal who was considered for 

the STEP or ultimately promoted for the STEP was looked at with a finetooth comb. I think it was good because the numbers that were promoted 

under STEP affected the overall promotion nil. It had absolutely no effect 

whatsoever. You are talking about 100,000 Airmen, and now you are 

talking about x number of stripes for—how many did we have, 50, 150 

Air Force–wide? I can’t recall the numbers, but they were ridiculously 

low and had no effect on the promotion system as a whole. But by the 

same token, it awarded that guy and gal who performed admirably in 

many, not just a few, but many, many, many areas an opportunity to get 

promoted ahead of somebody else or ahead of his time under the normal 

promotion system.

Some of my previous interviewees have voiced 

concern that because of pressure by women’s 

rights groups and so forth that the Air Force went 

overboard in putting women in previously maledominated career fields, and some of them are 

rather vocal in stating that it was to the detriment 

of the overall good of the Air Force. Would you like 

to address that one?

Yes. You are right in the first part of your comment where some 

women’s groups may have had an impact on some of the decisions that 

changed some of our previous decisions as to where women would sit or 

be, but I’ve got to disagree with the other statement. I don’t know who 

disagreed. I find the women to be excellent managers and excellent military 

people. I don’t know who it is, and it’s not important to me who, but I don’t 

see it as a detriment to the Air Force or to the mission. I see that the women 

that we’ve got are very, very professional, and they have done a job in a lot 

of instances better than the male who was doing the job previously before 

them. They are dedicated, and they are probably a little bit more exact in 

many instances on certain things than their male counterparts. I disagree 

with . . . whoever said that.

According to any number of my previous interviewees, 

they strongly feel that social activists, primarily in 

Congress, have turned all of the military services 

into one big social experiment to the detriment of 

the overall fighting force.

I think they have too. I think you’re right if you look at the big 

picture, but if you are just looking at women—

No, this is not just looking at women. It’s looking at—

Your question originally was for women. I think, for the most part, 

they had a very positive effect on the military structure. In fact, I think it was 

a surprise to many, many people, because women were not considered an 

equal. I’m sorry; they weren’t. I don’t give a damn what anybody says. Even in 

my younger days, they were not considered. They were the weaker sex, and 

that was the name of the game, but they have shown in more ways than you 

can shake a stick at that they are very, very capable. There are women who 

couldn’t find a telephone in a phone booth, but there are also some men who 

couldn’t find a rabbit bleeding in snow. What I’m saying is that there are just 

as many males who are incompetent as there are women. I’m not weighing 

one against the other. There’s an even balance. I think the difference is that 

we held that women were inferior and they were not capable. I think for the 

vast majority, whether you admit it or not, they were misclassified as being 

incompetent, and we realize it now. I think we do as society, but I think we 

also do as the Air Force. I think the Air Force is very, very happy that we’ve 

got a caliber of woman that we got in.

I know these young girls who are only two- or three-stripers, and 

they are avionic technicians. When they were going through high school, 

they couldn’t spell “avionics,” but when they decided to join the Air Force, 

they were given a battery of exams—and the magical wand was waved. They 

put it all in the computer, and she did very well in this particular career field. 

They approached her, put her in there, trained her, and gave her some of the 

teaching that she needed. Here she is now; she’s coping with a $23 million 

aircraft, if not more. Three years ago she was probably, according to most 

people, just an average young girl banging around high school. Now here 

she is; she’s got her a future in front of her, and she’s doing us a great job.

139
Another issue that is certainly talked about a lot, 

both in the officer corps and in the enlisted, is the 

effectiveness reports or APRs [Airman Performance 

Report] in the case of enlisted men.7 As you are 

probably as aware as anybody, we’ve always had 

the tendency to inflate on these things, and we 

keep revising these things, looking for that perfect 

system whereby we can get around this, but it never 

seems to happen. What words of wisdom do you have 

in that regard? 

If I could answer that question, I could probably make a lot of 

money. [Laughter] In fact, I’ve thought about it, and I wish I could answer 

the question because I would take out a contract and go to the Air Force, 

and I would probably be able to retire for the rest of my life. I would sell 

the program to the Air Force because I know the military would pay me 

more than anybody else would. [Laughter]

This is my opinion of the APRs. They are bigger than the 

Goodyear blimp. That’s how inflated they are. There’s just no getting 

away from it, but how? The only thing that we’ve been able to do—you 

can’t put a yardstick on it, and you can’t measure it—is that there is an 

inflation factor there. We know it, and you know it. You look at them, and 

you have to throw that in there somewhere. You don’t put it down as far as 

numbers, but it’s there. What really gripes me to no end to find is a oneor a two-striper or maybe even a three-striper with a nine APR. Where 

the hell can he go? He can’t go anywhere except up. Why we cannot give 

him a six or a seven is he will be dead in the water, because nobody else 

will give it. In other words, if you have been honest with your individual 

and you give him a true, honest-to-goodness reading and a six or a seven 

is exceptional, very well qualified, when you put him next to everybody 

else who got nines, he’s a dummy! In fact, you were honestly saying he 

has really got the potential and with time he is going to be a top NCO, 

but you have shot him out of the water. He’s dead in the water because 

of everybody else not going along with your way of thinking. You are not 

going to get everybody to go back down and do it realistically. If there 

was an edict from the president of the United States that nobody with two 

stripes or three stripes would get any more than a six, then every damned 

one of them would get a six. In other words, a six would be the highest. 

So you can’t break it. You’ll never be able to break that camel’s back. 

I wish I could figure out how we could do that. I would be able to rest 

pretty comfortably.

I don’t know how we can solve the problem. I remember when the 

APRs came out in 1960. You can look at my APRs. I got a six or a seven, and 

I was happy as hell. I was ecstatic to get a five or a six. I got five, and then I got 

maybe five and a half. The numbers equaled might be five and a half . Then I 

went to a six. I gradually grew into that position. Even though I have gotten 

nines, and, if you read those blocks, I’m no more a nine than the man in the 

moon. You had no alternative because everybody else was doing it. There 

was a brief—I mean very, very brief—period where commanders were told 

and supervisors were told to bring them back down, but that lasted maybe a 

reporting period. It had the same negative impact that it did on the officers’ 

corps. Talking about APRs, let me tell you. I really became irate during my 

tenure because I saw APRs which clearly, distinctly said— this is for tech 

sergeants and master sergeants—“This individual is not performing his job 

commensurate with his grade and not recommended for promotion,” and 

he was promoted. People will say, “That’s a bunch of crap. You didn’t do 

that.” That is true.

Are there any subject areas that I haven’t brought out 

during this interview that you would like to address?

The only thing that I have ever said loud and clear during my talks 

as the Chief was that I was very, very concerned about leadership. I think 

leadership is first and foremost. If you can’t lead those people, then you 

shouldn’t be in the job. A lot of people want to be leaders. I’ve always said, 

and I believe this, you cannot be a good leader until you are a good follower 

first. If you are a good follower, then you have the opportunity to be a leader. 

That doesn’t mean that you are going to be a leader because you are a good 

follower, but you have to have at least that one prerequisite of being a good 

follower before you can ever be a good leader.

140
141
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Sam E. Parish

August 1, 1983 - June 30, 1986

Sam Parish left home at age 14 

and quite literally never looked back. He 

joined the Air Force at 17 and a few months 

later, in August 1955, found himself at 

Wiesbaden Air Base, West Germany. For 

a young man raised in “the backwoods 

of north Florida,” it was an entirely 

different world.

Parish quickly made a name for 

himself as a weather operator. He was one 

of the first to receive a dual specialty code 

following a merger; he graduated top of 

his class in seven-level school, becoming 

the youngest seven-level in his career 

field and later became the only enlisted 

Airman developing weather systems in 

the System Program Office.

Thanks to great leadership 

during his first assignment, he learned 

the importance of tenacity and resolve 

and reached the rank of senior master 

sergeant in just 12 years. In 1973 he 

attended the pilot class of the Senior 

NCO Academy with two other future 

Chief Master Sergeants of the Air Force 

(CMSAF): Thomas Barnes and Jim 

McCoy. He later became the senior 

enlisted leader for both the US Air 

Forces in Europe (USAFE) and the 

Strategic Air Command (SAC), where 

he improved the 12 Outstanding Airmen 

of the Year program and established the 

First Sergeant of the Year award.

In 1986 Gen Charles Gabriel 

selected Parish to be the 8th Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force. Parish 

immediately improved recognition 

programs across the force, establishing 

the Levitow Award in Professional 

Military Education and an Air Forcewide First Sergeant of the Year award. He 

also moved promotion to senior airman 

to a fixed point in a career, ensuring 

Airmen had a chance to compete for 

promotion to staff sergeant during their 

first enlistment. Parish retired in 1986 

but continues to participate in a wide 

variety of Air Force activities, speaking 

at different engagements, including the 

Senior NCO Academy. 

142
In May 2015 Parish sat down for an interview to discuss his Air 

Force career and his tenure as the CMSAF. During the interview, Parish 

highlighted the impact of his early leadership, why he got involved in 

the community, and how he established the First Sergeant of the Year 

program. The following are edited excerpts from the conversation.

Chief, thank you for doing this. You came in, it was 

1954. You were 17 years old. Of course at that time 

the Korean War had just wrapped up; the Cold War 

was building. Did that play a role into why you 

decided to join?

I have no idea why I joined the Air Force. I had a good job. I was in 

Fort Myers, Florida. I left home when I was very young. And I went down 

and was walking past, and I saw this thing. It said United States Army 

recruiter. So, I go in and he said, “How old are you?” I said 17. He said, 

“Come back when you’re 18, and we’ll talk.” Well, I walked out. I had 

never heard of the US Air Force, but I looked up and there was a sign that 

said US Air Force. I thought, “What’s that?” And I walked in, and there 

was a young staff sergeant sitting there. And I said, “What’s this Air Force 

all about?” He said, “Here, take a test.” I took the test. And he said, “Fill 

out this form.” I filled out the form, and he said, “Come back in a month.” 

I went back in a month and he said, “Congratulations, you’re going in the 

Air Force on the 7th of December.”

Two years later, I found out my mother had to sign for me to join 

the Air Force, but I didn’t know that. When I went to get married, my 

commander called me in and said, “Hey, you’ve got to have my permission 

to get married. You’re not an NCO [noncommissioned officer].” I said 

“Oh, okay. Do I have your permission?” “Oh, yeah, we like your supposed 

wife very much.” And then he said, “By the way, your mother has to give 

you permission too. You’re not 21.” I said, “My mom doesn’t even know 

where I am?” He pulled out a stack of letters, hands them to me and said, 

“Okay, read them all.” He had been communicating with her the whole 

time I was in the squadron.

Did you communicate with her before you joined or 

did you just . . .

No. No, I left home. When I left home, I left home. Very young, 

very, very young. I left home when I was 14. The next time my mother saw 

me I was in the Air Force and heading for an overseas assignment. After 

that, the next time she saw me I was married and had a child.

How about that. Was she proud of you?

Oh, yeah, very proud. And I was very proud of my mom. It wasn’t 

her. I had a stepfather that was impossible, but we solved all those problems. 

So, why did I join the Air Force? Still have no idea. But once I got in I 

found something.

You came in, you went to basic training and I think it 

was 12 weeks at that time.

Yeah, it sure was, 12 weeks.

What was that experience like for you?

Well, number one, my first airplane flight was from Miami, Florida, 

to San Antonio, Texas. I guess I was apprehensive, but I wasn’t apprehensive 

enough to not think that once I got my orders I needed to start reading them. 

Before I got to Lackland, [AFB, Texas,] I had memorized my serial number. 

Not a social security number—a serial number. I still remember it to this 

day. And I got there, and I guess I could say that I went through 12 weeks 

of basic training, and I’m not even sure one of my MTIs [military training 

instructors] ever knew my name.

Just a number?

Well, not even a number, because there was a whole ton of us in the 

flight. And, you know, upper bunk, lower bunk, open bay barracks. I mean 

really barracks. I went into the service being raised in a rural area from the 

South. I knew how to say “Yes, sir; no, ma’am.” So, if you did that and you 

didn’t rebel, I found that basic training was no problem. We still had to do 

the PT [physical training], but hell, as young kids you can just about ace that 

if you want to.

So, I enjoyed basic, but we did some things then that we wouldn’t 

dare do now. You know, we didn’t take our qualification test until we got to 

basic training. Our sixth week of training was when we took them. Once we 

took those tests, then they started deciding what you were going to do in 

the Air Force.

Did they have people fail those tests?

AQE [Airman Qualifying Examination] scores is what we got then.1

I think I had a 90 in general, but the rest of them—well, they got you out 

of grammar school. We were never told the importance of them, because 

we sat there and took the sound test and shot spit balls at each other. 

But it was an experience, and I had a couple of people I still followed for

 years afterwards. 

I was the only person in my entire flight that went into weather. I 

didn’t know what it was, but there was another flight; there were four of 

us that went from Lackland to Chanute [AFB, Illinois]. They put us on the 

train, and the three that I was with were all reenlistees, and here I am, 17 

years old. It was a two-day train trip to Chanute, Illinois. I swear those guys 

spent the whole time in the bar. I didn’t drink, so I had trouble finding meal 

tickets and everything else because the ranking person got the tickets. So, 

it was an experience. I had no trouble with it, I enjoyed it. I started learning 

about the Air Force.

143
Over the years, we’ve evolved our basic training. It 

went from 12 weeks down to six and one-half weeks. 

now we have eight and one-half, which includes the 

Airmen’s Week capstone at the end. How important 

would you say it is to evolve with the times and make 

sure we’re still focused in the right direction with 

basic training?

Well, I think some of the things we’re doing in basic training I 

question a little bit. However, I’m not on active duty and haven’t been 

on active duty for 29 years. I think you almost have to evolve because 

you’re getting a different kind of Airman there than I was when I was an 

Airman—completely different. You keep up with the times, and I think 

it’s unbelievably important to do what we do in basic, because what you 

actually do is remake a human being. When our people leave basic military 

training, in my day—and I still talk to people that have graduated today, 

some local Airmen—they feel when they leave Lackland AFB, that if you 

cut them they would bleed blue. Parents cannot believe what we have done 

to their son or daughter in such a short span.

I still remember in 1978 when I was there for a graduation. I was 

the USAFE senior enlisted leader, and one of the parents said to me—

because we had just started getting parents to attend, relatives, anybody—

one of them said to me, “What have you done to my Johnny?” I thought 

it was derogatory; so, I said, “Ma’am, I apologize.” And she said, “No, 

no, we want to know the secret.” I said, “I can’t tell you; it’s classified.” 

She had seen so much of a change in her son that she couldn’t even hardly 

recognize him. I think that’s unbelievably important.

After that, we have a tendency to carry this on into tech school. 

I’m not sure we do such a good job with that. I’m not talking about the 

technical training or the following training, but the way we do it. The 

young person gets there and guess what—when they left Lackland the Air 

Force was their first love. And they get there, and the first thing they hear 

from one of the instructors is that they have the most important job in the 

US Air Force, and we don’t just take anybody in this career field. They 

start changing them from love of Air Force to love of job. Then they get 

out in the field, and the first thing they hear when they get there is you got 

the most important job in the Air Force, and we just don’t allow everybody 

to be a crew chief. All of a sudden, at five or six years in service, they make 

staff or tech sergeant and we tell them, I’m sorry, we don’t need you as a 

security forces person anymore at that grade, we need you over here. And 

they won’t change because of love of job: “If I can’t be a crew chief, to hell 

with it. I’ll get out of the Air Force.” I heard that from an Airman. I told 

him, “They don’t have crew chiefs outside; what are you going to do when 

you retire?” Well, come to find out all he wanted to do was be on the flight 

line. So, he went to another job on the flight line. And he made tech sergeant 

the next cycle, master, senior, and he’s now a chief in our Air Force; happy 

as hell. But he would have gotten out of the Air Force because he couldn’t 

be a crew chief.

 

So you see we teach love of job, and that’s what we do there after 

basic. We kind of dilute the basic training importance of love of Air Force. 

If you love the Air Force, you don’t care what you’re doing so long as you 

can do it.

Your tech school, as you mentioned, was weather. You 

graduated and you were sent to Wiesbaden, Germany. 

I’m curious, what was that experience like, just 

entering a new country?

Well, number one, I grew up so far in the backwoods of north 

Florida that I hardly thought there was another language in the world. When 

I got ready to go to Germany, I took leave and went home and visited my 

brothers and sisters, and then took a Greyhound from Marianna, Florida, to 

New York City, Grand Central Station. At Grand Central Station I had to go 

to a place called Manhattan Air Force Station. I had never heard of it in my 

life. Nobody else had either—it was new. So, I finally got there and I checked 

in, and they said you’re going to be here two weeks and you’re going to be 

doing KP [kitchen patrol] and details until we get a flight to ship you out 

on. I said, “Flight? They told me I was going by ship.” “Nope, this is the Air 

Force, we’re experimenting.” So, they gave me a bunk and said they would 

ding me in the morning at 5 o’clock. Well, 11 o’clock at night they came 

and said, “Are you Parish?” I said, “I am.” “Are you going to Germany?” “I 

am.” “Get up and pack, your plane is going to leave. We’re going to Idlewild 

[Airport, now John F. Kennedy International Airport] and you’re going to 

fly out of there to Germany.”

Well, I went to Paris, France. The flight ended in Paris, it was a 

contract flight, and they said we’ll let you know when there’s a flight going 

to Germany. I’m staying at the Hotel Litre on the Champs-Élysées in Paris. 

Six weeks later they said you’re going to Germany today. Well, the flight was 

less than an hour. So six weeks I sat there and waited. What did I do? That 

was the most boring time of my entire life.

144
Really? 

Mm-hmm. Couldn’t speak the language and everything. I got to 

Germany at 10 o’clock at night. And thank heavens for—postwar I guess 

you would say. They were still running shuttle buses to the base, and the 

11 o’clock run was for the people that were in the entertainment places. I 

asked some guy, “Does this bus go to the base?” “Which base?” I didn’t 

even know there was but one in Wiesbaden. “What do you do?” I said, 

“I’m in weather.” “Oh, you’re going out to Wiesbaden Air Base; this 

bus here will take you.” So I got to Wiesbaden Air Base at midnight and 

checked in.

About the time I got there and started my OJT [on-the-job 

training] they decided they needed to change AFSCs [Air Force specialty 

codes]. We had one, two, three, four, five AFSCs in weather. They were 

going to take three of those and put them into one if we could do it. And so 

they said I was the guinea pig, and I was going to sit in an office and read 

the book and then they would test me. So they did. I tested, and I passed. 

So they said, “Okay, if Parish can do it, anybody can do it.”

They would not send the people in those other AFSCs back to 

Chanute for training as a ground weather observer. So, we all did it by OJT. 

So, I finished that course and then there was a young captain there that 

was in weather communications in the headquarters, and he said, “I want 

you to work for me.” I said, “Doing what?” “Weather communication.” 

“What’s that?” He didn’t know. And he said, “We’ll learn.” And that was 

probably one of the most beneficial things I’ve ever done in my entire life 

because he taught me so much and allowed me to do things as a young 

Airman that I would never have been able to experience anywhere else.

Was that Capt Eugene Blanton?

Yeah, Eugene T. Blanton. He just passed away, and I got an e-mail 

from his wife. I got a phone call first. She said to me, Sam—we had never 

lost contact; he was in California—she said, “Sam, the old goat’s gone.” 

And I said, “You’re kidding me.” Nope. So, she sent me an e-mail, and it 

was a whole bunch of clippings that he had kept through the years of me 

serving in the Air Force. So, that kind of made, you know, goosebumps 

appear on you.

Yeah. So what example did he set for you, and then 

what can most Airmen today take from that?

Well, you know, he laid out some ground rules when I went to work 

for him. He said, “You have to be the best of anybody of your grade in this 

squadron if you’re going to work for me. Whatever you do, you have to be 

bright at it, and you have to be good. If you make a mistake, and if you make 

the mistake for the right reason, you’ll be okay. It doesn’t mean I won’t chew 

you out. That doesn’t mean I will not tell you to get out of this office, I don’t 

ever want to see you again. But if I say that to you, and you take it literally and 

you leave, I’ll charge you with AWOL [absent without leave], okay?”

So, he even taught me how to drink martinis. I had never drank in my 

entire life. We were sitting in Paris on a TDY [temporary duty]—I went TDY 

all over Europe with him—and he said, “What do you want to drink?” I said, 

“Coca-Cola is fine.” He said, “You ever have a martini?” I said, “What’s 

that?” And I tasted it, and it tasted like drinking pure kerosene. He told me 

I’d develop a taste for it and not to worry about it.

He made me do things that I knew I couldn’t do as a young Airman. 

He would not take over. He’d just tell me, “Redo it. I don’t like this portion 

of it; I don’t like that.” And the hardest thing was writing and learning the 

circuitry and learning where the weather came from, from North Africa to, 

you name it. We collected all this data, and it was radioed in; and then we’d 

break it down, and we’d distribute it. It was him allowing me as a young 

Airman to do things that nobody else in the squadron did, period. I guess 

that stood well with me for the rest of my life.

Our operations officer there, Col. Don Moore, was just a super, 

super ops officer. He was a lieutenant colonel. I went to seven-level school 

at Chanute as a young staff sergeant. It was 26-weeks long. You had to go to 

seven-level school before you could get a seven-level. Then you had to take 

OJT for one year, and then you had to take the SKT [Specialty Knowledge 

Test] and pass it. When I graduated from seven-level school, I was waiting 

for my assignment because I was raring to go, and they put a hold on me for 

four months. Nobody knew why. All of a sudden an assignment flowed to 

433L System Program Office in Waltham, Massachusetts. That was my next 

assignment, and they were holding me because they were establishing a job 

for me to do in the development of weather systems. Col. Don Moore was 

the operations officer of the System Program Office. I got there, and I was 

the only enlisted Airman. There were a ton of people in the System Program 

Office. There were three full colonels, two lieutenant colonels, a major, and 

Staff Sgt. Parish. The rest were engineers, GS-11s, 12s, and above.

145
I wanted to ask you again about Captain Blanton. 

Taking what you’ve learned from him, would you 

offer any advice to the Airmen that are supervising 

now, whether that’s a young staff sergeant 

or maybe a . . .

Well, it doesn’t matter. See, he didn’t do it as an officer. I had all 

the respect in the world for him as an officer, but he was my supervisor 

first and foremost. We would travel, and it was always Capt. Blanton. I 

never used his name, Eugene, in my entire life—other than Capt. Eugene 

T. Blanton. It was the easiest thing in the world to do. I had no problem 

with it because, like I say, I grew up in an environment where it was yes, 

ma’am, and no, ma’am, to everybody. If you didn’t, you’d get smacked 

by mom or dad. So, he taught me the value of being able to do things. He 

gave me the leeway and guided me, but he did not steer me. He allowed 

me to make mistakes, so long as they weren’t criminal. And I never did 

that, thank heavens. He never fired me from a job, and he really never, 

ever yelled at me. Sometimes I think in my later life I preferred the yelling 

rather than, you know, that arm on the shoulder. That’s the worst, when he 

put his arm on my shoulder and said, “Airman Parish, you don’t know how 

disappointed I am in you. I never believed that you would do something so 

dumb.” But I had done it for the right reason, and I didn’t bother asking. 

When I reached that point, I didn’t ask; I just stepped on ahead. In the 

long run it was the right thing to do, but it was the wrong timing, and I 

didn’t do the right thing. I didn’t ask him, and he was blindsided.

That’s never good, to blindside the boss, right?

Well, supervision to me is, you know—we discipline our children 

because we love them. Well, you should discipline your Airmen or your 

NCOs because you love them. It’s a different kind of love. It’s the love of 

service and country. If you don’t do that, guess what—you’ll allow them 

to stray off of the beaten path. Then when you try to correct it, it’s too 

late because they never saw it coming. With Capt. Blanton, he taught 

me those values very, very early. You know, I guess—well, ain’t no guess 

about it, I was a master sergeant before I was a supervisor for the first 

time because I was at Hanscom [AFB, Massachusetts] for so long. I made 

tech, master, and, six months after I left there, I made senior when I got 

to Germany.

You were at Hanscom for six years?

Six years, yes.

Based on what I’ve read you were pretty heavily 

involved in the community.

Oh, unbelievable, yeah, yeah.

Why did you feel that was important?

Well, I didn’t look at it as being important. I was out there on the end 

of the line. I didn’t work at Hanscom. I worked in a research lab in downtown 

Waltham, Massachusetts. When I first got there, I wasn’t even allowed to 

live in base housing because I wasn’t assigned to the unit. I lived 45 miles 

away from my job. Just to go to the gym or do anything was a major chore, 

because getting to work was a long enough drive. Then I passed within four 

miles of Hanscom, and that’s where we did our commissary shopping and 

things of that nature. You know, I was kind of looking for that camaraderie 

with enlisted people. A person that had a tremendous impact on my life 

happened to be a tech sergeant and ran the gym at Hanscom, and his name 

is George Price. He opened the door for me to go to the gym because I could 

never get there before the gym closed at 6 o’clock, and it was closed on the 

weekends in those days because they didn’t have the funding to run it.

He told me one day, “Sarge, you like to come to the gym?” I liked to 

play badminton and stuff like this, so I said sure. And he said to me, “Here’s 

a key to the gym. If you ever, ever do anything in this gym that I find out 

you shouldn’t have done, I will collar you and you don’t know what I’ll do 

to you.” So he trusted me enough to give me a key to his workshop, if you 

will. He also introduced me to the game of fast pitch softball, which I already 

knew from Germany. He asked me if I would manage the team. I was a young 

staff sergeant, and I said, “Manage a base team? Are you kidding me?” 

So, getting involved in military community activities was a way for 

me to associate with fellow enlisted Airmen, because my whole life was 

spent with engineers and officers—and it was a business relationship. I got 

so tired of going to my captain’s house for Thanksgiving with six children. 

And it was the involvement that gave me a feeling of belonging to something 

other than my job. We weren’t very sociable living 35 miles from the base. 

We moved three or four times while we were there, and it was always getting 

closer to the base. 

I finally made tech sergeant, and they called my wife the next day 

after I pinned on tech sergeant and said, “We have a house for you on base, 

do you want it?” It was one of the greatest things to ever happen in our life. 

So that’s why I got involved in the community. It was a sense of belonging—a 

sense of feeling. 

146
Some of that has changed today in the sense that 

there is a lot more for young Airmen to do off base. 

Movie theaters, for example, and sports teams...

Airmen don’t necessarily have to go on base to 

find things to do. What are your thoughts on 

that evolution?

Well, it’s not a matter of finding other things to do. They have the 

means to do other things. You know, when I was in Germany, I was the 

only person in the entire barracks that had a car. I didn’t drink, so guess 

what—I made a small fortune hauling drunks back to the base at midnight, 

if you want to pardon the expression. Cheaper than a taxi. Today you go 

into the dorm area and you see automobiles the likes of which, if they 

don’t have a letter of the alphabet in the title, you know, you don’t have a 

car. So, they have the means to get out there.

It doesn’t have to be the local bowling alley, or it doesn’t have 

to be the club. It’s getting out into the community and getting involved. 

That’s an unbelievable thing. I’m not sure they’re getting involved in the 

local community for the same reason that I did for the military community, 

for my comradeship. It’s for them to I guess participate in something they 

enjoy doing. And many times their supervisors may not even know they’re 

doing it. 

So, I think it’s important to participate in community activities. 

And, you know, that’s what we’re all about. We don’t need the thoughts 

of the public that we’ve had in the past in many cases, especially during 

Vietnam and things of that nature. Today it’s enjoyable to go through an 

airport and see GIs coming back from the desert with the DCUs [desert 

camouflage uniforms], or BDUs [battle dress uniforms], or ABUs [Airman 

battle uniform], whatever the hell you all call them, and people saying 

to them, “Thank you for serving.” It probably gets old to the people, to 

you guys. But I see the thanks, and it’s so good of a feeling because the 

community feels that way. And then when we have somebody that does 

something to tarnish the name in the community, that bothers the heck 

out of me.

You mentioned Vietnam and the different level of 

respect for the service members today compared to 

Vietnam. Do you think that damaged the morale or the 

sense of pride among Airmen?

You know, I don’t know. I look at that and I don’t think it damaged 

the morale so much as it gave us the feeling that the public is completely 

ignorant about what we do. The Air Force wasn’t treated as badly as the 

Army and the Marine Corps. For example, during Vietnam, the latter parts 

of Vietnam, we weren’t allowed to wear our uniforms in public, period. 

If you came back from Vietnam and you came into San Francisco or Los 

Angeles, wherever, you changed out of your uniform and put on civilian 

clothes before you left the airport. There was a time when even going to the 

Pentagon, they discouraged wearing your uniform to the Pentagon.

Was that for the member’s safety?

Safety. Because people would pour blood on you and everything. 

That continued on until—well, I was Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

and we still had demonstrations on the Capital Mall. It was a horrible, 

horrible experience and feeling because mothers and fathers of America 

blamed their sons and daughters for what was going on in Vietnam. And it 

was a totally misplaced, misguided public that allowed that to occur. They 

blamed their sons and daughters. They’d throw blood on you. Everything, it 

was horrible. 

You coupled that with the racial unrest that we had in the late ’60s, 

and a large portion of it was generated because of the discontent with the war. 

Now you walk down the street and guess what? Or you go through an airport 

and everybody wears their uniform. It was against Air Force regulations for 

you to wear your fatigues off base and stop in any store on your way home, 

unless it was a drive thru.

147
148
149
So why, for those who didn’t have to, why did they 

continue to serve?

Love of service, love of your job. I still think that most people—do 

they serve because of the money? I don’t believe so, because I guarantee 

you that there’s not a single NCO today that could come within $500 of 

telling me how much they make in a year, cash. And I’m willing to bet 

with them. So, money is not the driving force behind serving. Now is it 

something that I’m going to do because I’m patriotic? I don’t think so. I 

think the majority of our people, after they get in and get their feet on the 

ground, enjoy what they’re doing, and they enjoy the people they’re doing 

it with. And we’re paying them enough for them to have a life of their own 

and it’s halfway decent. It’s not scrounge and scrabble for everything, 

unless you’re trying to live and keep up with somebody that you shouldn’t 

be keeping up with. So, I think it’s love of job and it’s enjoying the people 

that you’re doing it with. Nowhere in life, including the aftermath of your 

retirement, will you find the same camaraderie in an office environment as 

you find in the military. Now, does that mean that if you go into corporate 

life, as many of us do, you won’t find the same dedication and discipline 

among the most senior leadership there as we do in our US Air Force? 

No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying at five o’clock you cease to exist 

as far as the corporation is concerned, as long as you show up the next 

morning at eight. And, you know, as long as you follow the rules, the dress 

codes, and don’t violate company policy, you’re in good shape, as long as 

you produce.

But the Air Force, we expect more, don’t we?

Sure.

You’ve got to look the part, act the part, and then you’ve got to 

walk the walk and talk the talk at the same time. And if you don’t, then 

you have a miserable, miserable life, and you won’t stay in. And the 

reason our people get out today, I don’t believe it’s the money, I think 

it’s something in the leadership, the supervision, or the structure of the 

job performance that they’re having to do that just says, “I don’t need 

this anymore.”

The Vietnam War, besides the feeling from the public, it was just 

a long war. Well, it wasn’t only that. We operated in Vietnam just like we 

operated in the United States of America. You know, we didn’t deploy 

teams over there except for the mobile teams that we sent over there, but 

they went over TDY also. We didn’t send the whole unit. And once we got 

over there, you know, our security forces, they didn’t defend our bases—

they defended the interior of the base. Army took care of the exterior. If 

our security was breached and people started coming on the base, that’s 

where the security forces took over, to defend the interior. 

Things changed drastically in Iraq, didn’t it? There were no 

boundaries, and all of the sudden, our defenders that were defending the 

interior of the base also became the defenders of the exterior. Our Airmen 

operated outside the wire. There’s not a job we have in the Air Force that 

at one time or another, over in Afghanistan and Iraq, they didn’t go outside 

the wire. So we changed the way we do business. From Da Nang Air Base 

[Vietnam] to Tan Son Nhut [Vietnam], when those planes went there and 

they took off to fly a mission, whether it was a [C-]130 or F-4 or whatever 

was taking off, I guarantee you that plane had been loaded there, it had been 

serviced there, and the men and women that did it saluted when they took off 

and hoped and prayed that they come back. They came back and tried to land 

at the same place. And that’s how we operated from the States. We changed 

that in Iraq. Most of the aircraft were not based in the country, they were in 

further areas that they could reach very quickly. They had some there, but 

not all.

Sure. That’s interesting.

We changed the way we do business, completely and totally. And 

is it bad? Hey, I’m not on active duty, you know. I can’t say one way or the 

other. But if we’re a better Air Force because of it, that’s what it’s all about, 

because we serve a nation not an Air Force.

Sure. I think it was in 1969 when you made 

chief master sergeant?

Well, I made chief master sergeant on November the 15th in 1968, 

when I was notified by my commander at one second after midnight that I 

had been promoted to chief.

That was right before we moved to the new 

promotion system.

Well, that was the last of the good days as I call it, from promotion 

standpoint because the last—by that I mean I had a line number. The 

Weighted Airman Promotion System [WAPS] had not been born yet, and I 

had the last damn line number in the entire promotion cycle.

I waited, and I waited, and I waited. And finally, I believe it was 

mid-1970 when they said you’re a chief today. Thank you very much. And 

I sewed them on my uniform, or Inge did, and I went work, and that was 

the extent of it. I got a date of rank of 1 December 1969. But I made it 

November of ’68, and I had to wait because that was the first year for a line 

number system that they started in the Air Force.

150
What was the promotion system like back then? 

I guess from your experience before WAPS?

Well, it was not very good—it was not very well done. And I have 

to be very critical of that because we got into this “have and have nots.” 

World War II ended and a lot of the people out of World War II, some 

rift officers, all came out as master sergeants. Korea, the same thing. So 

master sergeant was the highest grade you could get in those early days, 

and all those slots were filled. So, if you couldn’t make master sergeant, 

well, then the highest you could go is technical sergeant. They promoted 

based on essential vacancies, and if there were no vacancies, nobody got 

promoted. And those that did get promoted had to be in a critical AFSC, 

generally aircraft maintenance and the like.

Weather was in the ops arena, and I made tech in ’62 and I was the 

first person I ever saw make tech sergeant. The average retiree in the early 

’60s was a staff sergeant with 20 years in service. Congress was getting 

flooded with letters from enlisted Airmen in our Air Force about the 

promotion system and not being able to get promoted. It was an invisible 

system. You didn’t know what it took to get promoted, and we didn’t have 

any debriefs on it or anything else. You made staff at the squadron level, 

and at the tech sergeant level you moved to base and MAJCOM [major 

command] level. I made senior in ’67, and that was the first time I competed 

centrally for promotion. All you knew is you either got promoted or you 

didn’t get promoted. If the promotion board met, you walked outside and 

looked at the daily bulletin. If you didn’t see your name on the list, you 

said, “Well, I didn’t get promoted.” There was nobody that could brief 

you on how you came up short or anything.

So, the Weighted Airman Promotion System was a godsend and a 

lifesaver for the US Air Force.

Do you think it has met its intent over the years?

I think it probably not only met its intent but it exceeded the 

intended purpose. The problem is we didn’t follow up, because WAPS 

promoted as an equal opportunity system, and every AFSC got promoted 

in the same promotion percentage. Some may differ because if you got 

two eligible and can only promote one, that’s 50 percent. However, the 

percentage throughout the Air Force might have been only 30 percent or 

20 or 10. But they had a follow on to it, and it was called over-promoted 

and big AFSCs. Maintenance was the largest AFSC in the Air Force at the 

time. And once you became the crew chief or the engine prop person, or 

whoever, and you liked what you were doing, it was awfully hard for you 

to go and say, “Well I want you to go be a medic,” or “I want you to be 

something else,” when the person had been working with their hands the 

whole time.

 

We didn’t have the system where, if there were too many people in 

this specialty at the grade of tech sergeant or master sergeant, either some 

would retrain or nobody would get promoted. That’s what we should have 

done, something that drastic. We offered opportunities over and over again. 

We went out and solicited people, begged them, gave them AFSCs of their 

choice in many cases. We still couldn’t get them out of the career field they 

were entrenched in and were comfortable in. They didn’t want to throw that 

away and say, “I’m going into this unknown, dark, grey area.”

One of the things you got to do was attend the first 

Senior NCO Academy class. What was that experience 

like for you?

Well, it was really, really, really unique because I had been in 

solo positions my whole career, from the time I went to the 7th Weather 

Squadron from Hanscom until I was selected for the senior academy. I went 

down there as a senior chief because I already had four years’ time in grade 

and I still didn’t have 20 years in service. I’m going in with some chiefs that 

had 26 years in service. I was in a class that had the likes of [CMSAF #6] 

Jim McCoy, [CMSAF #4] Tom Barnes—we were all classmates. I wasn’t 

in awe, because there are very few things in life that has awed me, but to 

see these people operate and to watch Tom Barnes in his calm way, be in 

a seminar and sit there and have this violent discussion basically, and have 

him so calmly never get ruffled, you can’t help but have part of that rub off 

on you to a certain extent. So I wasn’t in awe, but I sure as hell developed 

a much, much greater respect for most senior NCOs and the environment 

they operate in—and where they came from too.

Sure. I find it interesting that you were in the very 

first class, and I know you continue to go down there 

today. So you’ve seen it go from the beginning to where 

we are today. How do you think that class has evolved 

over the years? Well, it’s evolved to the extent that I think we’re getting a lot more 

out of it than we ever dreamed we would get out of it. I know starting off it 

was awfully tough. We took only chiefs in there. And chiefs didn’t feel like 

they needed to do anything in the world because they already had it made. 

They didn’t need it for promotions. And we weren’t sending them there for 

promotions. We were sending them there to be better NCOs and to learn 

a little bit about the big picture, if you will. I’ve never seen the big picture, 

but we were teaching them those things they needed to know to be the most 

senior enlisted leadership. 

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Well, let me tell you what, by the time Jim McCoy became Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force he would get roasted going down there by 

the chiefs. Jim tolerated it to the extent that he could, and then we started 

thinking of change. [CMSAF #9] Jim Binnicker was the big changer in 

the Senior NCO Academy, because for the first time, we started sending 

master sergeants to the senior academy. Before, it was only senior master 

sergeants and chiefs. And now it’s awfully close to being virtually all 

masters with the new system. They do much of the core curriculum before 

they even get there. Now, they’re in there for six weeks, and they’re doing 

things for leadership, management, and supervision—the types of things 

they’re going to do as masters and seniors and chiefs. Chiefs virtually 

don’t go there anymore because they’ve all been.

So, I like what I see in the Senior NCO Academy, and I think it’s 

worth every dime we lay out there. Some changes I would like to see. I’d 

like to go back to a formal graduation. I think it was important to celebrate 

the ending of something that was almost spectacular at times. But that’s 

neither here nor there. You don’t go there for a graduation anyways; you 

go there to see how you stack up and learn against your fellow NCOs 

and Airmen.

You’ve been a big proponent for not just the Senior 

NCO Academy but for PME [professional military 

education]. When you were the CMSAF you started the 

NCO Preparatory Course. What kind of impact do you 

think PME has had on this force when you consider 

where we are today?

It’s awfully easy to answer, in my opinion. It’s the greatest single 

step taken for the development of our enlisted Airmen in the history of the 

US Air Force. I just wish like hell that I would have had the opportunity to 

attend what our E4s do today—management, supervision and leadership. 

What I got was what I observed and what I got out of my seven-level 

weather school, because they taught us management, leadership, and 

supervision. That was in 1960. The academies were just standing up, and 

we didn’t have the preparatory course and things of that nature. To get 

our young people at the very earliest stages and move them up and build 

on each step, the purpose of it, and what they’re experiencing as a senior 

airman, now as a staff sergeant and tech sergeant and a master sergeant in 

the NCO Academy. And then the senior academy, and now we’re fixing 

to start our chief’s course back up. So, you see you never ever get too old 

to learn. If you learn something, that’s valuable to our younger people—

because they are going to lead our Air Force into this twenty-first century.

You created the First Sergeant of the Year Award when 

you were at USAFE. You did it again when you were at 

SAC, and then you did it for the Air Force. Why was that 

so important for you to get that recognition?

Well, you know, you need to go back into time and see where 

we were. We had different caliber of people to start with. First sergeants 

were—I guess you would say if there was any segment of our population that 

was brown shoe it would be the first sergeants. You know, disciplinarians, 

tough as nails. As a young Airman, I’d walk a block out of my way to keep 

from meeting a master sergeant on the street. If it was a first sergeant, I’d 

probably walk 10 blocks to keep from meeting him.

I had never been in a unit that had a first sergeant. We had about 300 

people in the 7th Weather Squadron. I was the squadron chief observer, 

the first sergeant safety NCO, training NCO. I worked for the ops officer. I 

went there as a master sergeant, made senior, and when I made chief, they 

curtailed me and shipped me to Scott [AFB, Illinois]. The thing is, I was in 

essence a first sergeant for three years, with a commander that depended on 

me for discipline to everything else. I took all the correspondence courses 

they would allow me to take, to find out what was going on. When I went 

to Military Airlift Command and retrained it was the first time I ever had a 

first sergeant.

When I got to USAFE, the 12 Outstanding Airmen of the Year 

program was one of the programs that I first attacked because we didn’t do 

anything except name them in name. We had first sergeant conferences that 

joined with us at the senior enlisted advisors’ conferences, and that’s where 

the determinations were made as to who was going to represent the bases at 

the 12 Outstanding Airmen of the Year program. Well, I found there was 

never a first sergeant nominated. And I knew damn well they were doing a 

superb job. 

At the first sergeants conference I asked them, “What’s going on 

guys? Don’t you all realize the importance of this job and the importance of 

being recognized?” They said, “Chief, if we do it, it’s self-serving, and we’re 

taking that slot away from one of our people that could be nominated.” So I 

went to Gen. John Pauly, and I said, “Sir, we need a new program.” He said, 

“Sam, you already got your Outstanding Airmen of the Year program. What 

do you want to do?” I said, “I want a First Sergeant of the Year program, 

because they don’t allow themselves to be nominated. The commanders can 

do the nominating, and then we’ll get a group of chiefs together and we’ll 

decide which commander’s got the best package.” He said, “Sounds good 

to me.” Well, let me tell you what, doing things for people doesn’t always 

work well, because the first sergeants absolutely refused to participate in 

it. Refused.

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General Pauly told me he’d talk to them. So I got them all together; 

we had a hellish discussion on the First Sergeant of the Year program. 

Then he got up and talked and closed by saying, “I understand that you 

don’t feel that a First Sergeant of the Year program is needed. I’m telling 

you as your commander in chief that a First Sergeant of the Year program 

is going to work in the US Air Forces in Europe. And I’m here to tell you 

something else, if you don’t want to participate, and if you’re anti-First 

Sergeant of the Year program, leave your diamond at the door when you 

leave this damn conference. I enjoyed being with you, take care, good 

luck.” I didn’t find a diamond in the out basket anywhere.

I went to SAC. One of the first things I did was attack the 12 

Outstanding Airmen of the Year program and ask for a First Sergeant 

of the Year program. Gen Bennie Davis said to me, “What’s wrong with 

our Outstanding Airmen of the Year program now?” I said, “You bring 

them in, you wine them and dine them for one night, then you send them 

home.” “What do you want?” Well, he had an airplane, a KC-135, the 

most beautiful plane in the inventory. “I said I want CASEY 1 for a week.” 

He said, “Are you out of your mind?” I said, “No, sir.” “What are you 

going to do?” I said, “Well I’m going to show them what we do in SAC. 

I’m going to take them to Colorado Springs [Colorado],” because we 

had the missile business at the time. “I want to take them to Vandenberg 

[AFB, California], I want to take them to a northern-tier base and have 

a good time out there with them, bring them back here, have a banquet, 

announce who the recipients are, and send them home the next day. And 

while we’re gone, the chiefs are going to determine who the winners are. 

Nobody will know.” And he said, “Hmm, I like that.” So, he said, “Give 

me a disposition form.” That’s what we had, we didn’t have e-mails or 

nothing. So, he sent the form to the director of operations, who was a twostar general. He came down, and he got on the top of my desk with his 

golf shoes on, and he was doing a jitterbug, calling me every name in the 

book, and who did I think I was and everything. I looked at him and I said, 

“General, you’re in the wrong office. I don’t think I signed that memo.” 

“Yeah, but you’re the author of it.” I said, “Well go down and tell the 

general he’s wrong.” He didn’t have the nerve. We got CASEY 1 for a 

week, and the program kept going as long as Strategic Air Command was 

in existence.

The First Sergeant of the Year program got a lot of resistance 

initially, until they communicated with somebody that had been in 

USAFE—or somebody in USAFE had come to SAC—and they told them 

how it worked. When I became Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

that was one of the first three things I pursued after I met with the former 

Chief Master Sergeants of the Air Force. I picked their brains, and the 

Levitow Award was born—the First Sergeant of the Year program was 

born, things of that nature. I went to General [Charles A.] Gabriel with 

it when we were flying to Europe on a visit. He read the memo from the 

meeting while he was in his compartment on Speckled Trout. The aide 

came out and said, “The chief wants to see you.” So I went back, and he 

said, “I like it. When we get to USAFE release it to the world.” “Sir,” I 

said, “It ain’t been staffed. I’ll prepare a message for you to send to the Air 

Force announcing it.” He said, “Nope, it’s your program, sign it.” So, the 

First Sergeant of the Year program for the Air Force was born, approved on 

that airplane, and believe me, I suffered immensely from it—more ways than 

one. Because the promotion to senior airman was part of the memo.3

Oh, really?

Yeah. It was released that we were going to do it, but we didn’t have 

the idea yet how to do it. So, when I got back it had to be staffed and . . . it 

was not pretty. None of it was pretty.

I think one of the things that story highlights is the 

ability for the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

to influence the enlisted force and lead them in new 

directions. Can you describe—I guess just looking 

back—how that has been shaped over the years, 

that influence the enlisted force has now because 

of that position?

You know we had to claw for the things we got. We had to fight 

and claw not only the director of personnel, but the director of operations, 

or whatever you call them now: the A1s and the A2s and so forth. We had 

to do that battle, and it was always behind closed doors. Now, our senior 

NCOs have seen this development, and they’re picking up the ball. What I 

see happening as part of this is this tendency to aspire to a job rather than to 

serve the Air Force. You know, a senior airman asks me, “I want to be the 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force one day.” When they start thinking 

of being the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force as a senior Airman, as 

I told one senior airman, “Son, you’ve got to make staff sergeant first.” I’d 

already asked him how much time in service he had, and he said, “Eight and 

a half years, Chief.” I looked at him and I said, “You know, if you don’t make 

staff sergeant in the next year and a half, they’re going to kick you out. Then 

how are you going to be the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force?” 

It hurt his feelings tremendously, but driving me back to my 

quarters, he said, “Chief, I appreciate you not saying that publicly.” 

I said, “I would never embarrass you like that, but there’s a message 

there.” And he said, “I got your message.” He made staff sergeant, he 

made tech the first time, master, senior, and now he’s a retired chief 

master sergeant. You see people get on that path though—the tunnel 

vision—where there’s nothing in the world except what’s at the end of 

that tunnel. They don’t see all the interference on the outside of that 

tunnel, and that’s why it’s important to continue to focus on the total 

person. I don’t want somebody to be a technical expert as a chief master 

sergeant. I want somebody that knows the technical aspects of the job 

and then to be a great leader and supervisor and to make changes that 

will benefit those that come behind, not those that are ahead.

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That’s what I think the Chief Master Sergeants of the Air Force 

have done. And I’m going to tell you something else, too. We could never, 

ever, ever have gotten here without a person named Paul Airey. Paul was 

the type of individual that had the patience of Jude but would eat you out 

in ways you never dreamed of being chewed out. He set the pace for us.

One of the similarities, comparing your tenure as the 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force to today is the 

fiscal environment. The drawdown of Airmen, looking 

at the retirement and asking how we can save money. 

I’m sure that brought a lot of uncertainty for Airmen 

who were serving then. What advice do you have for 

Airmen serving today who are facing those 

same challenges?

The things that we faced then . . . yes, we were faced with financial 

challenges. And if you think it has been tough with sequestration and all 

that, go back to 1978. In 1978 we had about 120 F4s at a squadron at 

Torrejón Air Base, Spain. On any given day, if we could have launched 

20 airplanes we would have been unbelievably successful. Everything had 

been cannibalized just to keep some of them flying. The vice commander 

of USAFE had to personally approve every single TDY in the command 

except for General Pauly and myself. Wing commanders, Numbered Air 

Force commanders, everybody. That’s how hard up we were for funds. So, 

funding has been cyclical the whole time. 

We had shortages, and all of a sudden, you know, along came 

[Pres. Ronald] Reagan. He started looking at things, and President 

[Jimmy] Carter on his way out gave us the biggest pay raise we got in the 

history of the Air Force. President Reagan was given credit for it, but it 

happened during the [Carter] administration and he [Reagan] took office 

in January and it had already been approved. They started targeting the 

raises—17.4 percent pay raise for a chief. The next year, the year after, we 

got a 14.4 percent pay raise, again targeted, because we had developed 

a breaking point between E-1 and E-9 of about a 3:1 ratio. A chief made 

about three times as much as an Airman basic, but for the general and 

the lieutenant it was about 6:1 or more, about the same as it is today. 

This is what we harped on. It wasn’t that we were looking for anything 

for ourselves. We knew what happened in ’78 when we couldn’t launch 

airplanes because we didn’t have crew chiefs. They had all left. Let me 

tell you, they left for one reason: money. They couldn’t even afford to 

have a family.

That started solving itself, and now, we’re faced with shortages 

again, but this time it’s different—we’re drawing down the force. Just 

imagine what we did after Vietnam. It’s not the first drawdown that has ever 

occurred; it’s the third one during this generation of Airmen. In the early 

’90s we had a drawdown, and then we had another drawdown in the mid2000s, and now we’re having the other one. So Vietnam, we went from 

almost a million Airmen to 500,000 in about three years. We didn’t do it 

very nicely—used a butcher knife or a machete. And then in the early ’90s, 

we learned some things, but we still didn’t do that very well either—had a lot 

of discontent. And we’ve gotten better and better at drawing down the force. 

The doubt in people’s mind, however, we still haven’t resolved. 

So when you find out that we’re going to have a new retirement 

system, you look back and see what the retirement system that was 

implemented—and I think it’s called three year . . .

High 3. And then now we have the High 3 with the REDUX.

Right, with the REDUX.

It’s an option.

But with the High 3 there was some turmoil. There was a lot of 

discussion, but nobody understood what it was all about. Then they started, 

you know, fairness. We don’t deal in fairness. If you joined the Air Force and 

this is the system we have when you join, and they didn’t make it retroactive 

to the old people that were serving, the High 3, then you’ve got nothing to 

complain about really.

The young people we have today, I’ve never seen any better in my 

entire Air Force life. Young people come in better educated than I was, and 

they have a distinct sense of purpose. A lot of them come in with two stripes. 

Damn, it took me two years to get my first two. And not only that, but they 

know the Air Force is going to be their career. And I never, ever, ever, ever 

made a conscious decision to make the Air Force a career. I enjoyed what 

I was doing, I enjoyed the people I was doing it with, and the most natural 

thing in the world was to raise the right hand again and say I do. 

The point is, our people come in for reasons. Some do, some are 

looking for themselves. What was I looking for? I don’t know, but I must 

have been looking for something. It doesn’t matter why you join. It’s the 

oath of enlistment that we take, and we need to emphasize that. The young 

Airman that takes that oath in the MEPS [Military Entrance Processing 

Station] station the first time, they have no concept of what they’re saying 

other than they’ve got to remember the words to repeat them. But after 

they’ve said it about four, five, or six times, it starts to dawn on them. You’re 

making an oath to defend the United States of America against all enemies 

foreign and domestic. I’m here to tell you there are no “ands,” or there are 

no “ifs,” “buts,” or “however” in our oath of enlistment. It is absolute.

154
You mentioned the oath—how do you think the allvolunteer force has strengthened the Airmen or 

the Air Force?

Well, I’m not sure that it has strengthened it, to be very honest 

with you. You know, if you stop and you think about it, and I spent a lot of 

time with Chief Paul Airey, and he was a draft era and so was I. We didn’t 

draft people with a college degree into the Air Force. Now the Army might 

have tried to draft them with a college degree, but when they found out 

they could join the Air Force, they joined the Air Force. Having a draftee 

that is 30 years old next to an 18-year-old doing the same job, if you got 

the right draftee in there that’s educated, guess what? Some of that starts 

to rub off. Airey said, you know, in the trenches of World War II we had 

college degrees and high school graduates, and dropouts, like myself, and 

he said it was a great way to serve. Well, we probably will never go back to 

that, and I kind of hope we don’t. 

What this has done though, it has driven up the cost of DOD [the 

Department of Defense]. It has also driven up the amount that each one of 

our Airmen make in each pay grade, and that’s been the greatest, greatest 

benefit right there. It has raised the standard of living in our military 

services. The other part that I see is that it has given us a young Airman 

the likes of which we have never gotten before in the US Air Force. People 

willing to come in for six years and get two stripes, or those that are 

ROTC [Reserve Officer Training Corps], or have two years of college, 

or a college degree, that say I want to see something else in the world. 

And it’s not necessarily—as I tell our senior Airmen—I don’t believe that 

each one of you are so patriotic that you said I’m going to join to serve my 

country. And that’s okay, because once you get in, you’re going to get that 

patriotism if you serve—that’s all that counts. They come in for different 

reasons, and if it’s money that’s okay, too. Find a job? Don’t be ashamed 

to say it. 

So I’m not concerned about why you join, it’s what you do once 

you take that oath and continue with your life. We’re getting a great quality 

of Airmen. 

When you hear people talk about Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force Sam Parish they say he’s a 

straight shooter. What is a straight shooter, and why 

is that important to you?

Well, I think a straight shooter is telling it like it is. When I retired 

from the Air Force, we didn’t even have cell phones and the Internet wasn’t 

invented. All of that stuff, it has changed the way that we think and do 

business. A straight shooter to me is absolutely telling people what they 

need to hear, not what they want to hear. I guarantee you when your boss 

calls you in and says, “I need your opinion on this,” you know exactly what 

he or she’s looking to hear as a general rule. If you tell him what he wants to 

hear and you don’t really and truly believe that, you’re not a straight shooter.

I think we’ll wrap this up with one more question. I 

want to ask, if you look at our Air Force today, if you 

look at the Airmen that are serving today and you had 

to start your sentence with “I believe,” what would 

you say?

I believe we’re getting the greatest quality of dedicated, disciplined, 

and educated Airmen we could ever hope to get in our Air Force. I just hope 

and pray we have the Airmen in the NCO ranks and the officer ranks that 

will provide guidance, leadership, and supervision to them to make our Air 

Force even better in the future than we’ve been in the past.

155
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

James C. Binnicker

July 1, 1986 - July 31, 1990

James C. Binnicker always wanted 

to fly. Born on 23 July 1938 and raised in 

Aiken, South Carolina, by his freshman 

year of high school he was a member of 

the local Civil Air Patrol squadron. He 

loved the camaraderie and the structure, 

the discipline and the flying. “I found 

that I was very comfortable and enjoyed 

putting on the uniform and dressing up 

like an Airman,” Binnicker recalled. 

“The marching, the flying, the saluting, 

that was sort of my thing; I liked it. 

And then when we went to summer 

camp, the exposure to . . . the real Air 

Force . . . solidified that this was what I 

wanted to do.”

1

 

In 1956 Binnicker was named 

Cadet of the Year and was awarded a 

scholarship to attend flight school. He 

also represented South Carolina in Great 

Britain as a foreign exchange cadet. By 

all accounts he was a successful cadet 

with a bright future in aviation. But a 

year later, in 1957, his path took an 

unexpected turn. 

2

Binnicker signed up for the Air 

Force’s aviation cadet program with every 

intention of becoming a successful Air 

Force pilot, but doctors soon detected a 

high-frequency hearing loss in his right 

ear. He was disqualified from the program 

and returned home. Brokenhearted 

but determined to serve despite the 

limitation, he decided to enlist. As he 

recalled after a long, successful Air Force 

career, “I was disappointed and didn’t 

want to go back home and face the people 

I had sort of thumbed my nose at—’I’m 

going to go off and be jet pilot’—so I 

told the recruiter I wanted to join the 

Air Force.”

3

The hearing loss disqualified 

Binnicker from several jobs, but he found 

a career field that allowed him to serve 

close to airplanes and pilots: personal 

equipment.

4

 He spent the next few years 

at Altus AFB, Oklahoma, installing 

parachutes and other survival equipment 

in B-52 Stratofortress long-range 

bombers and KC-135 Stratotanker aerial 

refueling aircraft.

156
He quickly grew accustomed to the Air Force culture in the late 

fifties. He joined the Aero Club, went to movies with friends, and hung 

out in the barracks dayroom. He learned the benefit of mentorship from 

his experience with a maintenance chief, CMSgt Roy Duhamel, and grew 

frustrated with the barracks set up of two Airmen to a room and a shared 

bath, which was the norm until the late nineties, well after he retired.5

His career took off as his supervisors recognized his motivation 

and natural ability to lead. He cross-trained into the air operations career 

field in 1964 and moved to Hickam AFB, Hawaii, as a staff sergeant. 

While there, he planned flights going into Vietnam and quickly made 

technical sergeant. Over the next 10 years, he served in North Dakota, 

Vietnam, Georgia, Taiwan, North Carolina, and Texas.

In 1977, now a chief master sergeant and experienced senior 

enlisted leader, Binnicker began serving in a unique role. Pres. Jimmy 

Carter established a commission on military compensation with the 

specific charge to “identify, study, and make recommendations on critical 

military compensation issues.”6

 With Chief Master Sergeant of the Air 

Force (CMSAF) Thomas Barnes’s recommendation, Binnicker became 

the senior enlisted adviser on the commission.

The members researched and made recommendations on 

different forms of compensation, including basic pay and allowances, 

special and incentive pays, and retirement benefits. It was one of many 

experiences that prepared Binnicker to later serve as the CMSAF, and he 

credits Barnes for his success. “He involved me in some things that gave 

me visibility that I might not have gotten otherwise,” Binnicker said. “I 

kind of point to him as the guy [who] had the most influence and impact 

on my career.”7

Following his yearlong assignment to the compensation 

commission, Binnicker returned to serving as a senior enlisted advisor for 

the 12th Air Force at Bergstrom AFB, Texas, and later for the Pacific Air 

Forces Command at Hickam AFB, Hawaii. He was then selected to serve 

as the chief of the Chief’s Group at Randolph AFB, Texas, before serving 

again as a senior enlisted advisor, this time for Tactical Air Command.

In 1986 Gen Larry Welch, selected Binnicker to serve as the 9th 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. He quickly adapted to working on 

the Air Staff and began to implement a variety of initiatives, most notably 

a new Enlisted Evaluation System that introduced the Performance 

Feedback Worksheet and the Enlisted Performance Report. He also began 

to enroll master sergeants into the Senior Noncommissioned Officer 

Academy and led through a significant drawdown of military personnel 

that impacted promotions and disrupted the force. When he became the 

CMSAF in 1986, the Air Force had 603,714 Airmen on active duty, but 

by 1990 that number had dropped to 535,233.8

Binnicker retired in 1990, but he continued to serve in a variety of 

Air Force roles. He was a member of the Air University Board of Visitors 

and the Airmen Memorial Museum. He traveled around the world to speak 

to Airmen in different forums including professional military education 

(PME) courses. In 2000 Binnicker became the chief executive officer of 

the Air Force Enlisted Village, where he worked tirelessly to create a safe 

and loving home for more than 400 residents. Binnicker passed away from 

cancer on 21 March 2015.

Before his passing, Binnicker did not sit down for a long-form oral 

history interview. However, as he often said, he never met a microphone he 

didn’t like. The following are quotes and perspectives that Binnicker shared 

throughout his life and Air Force career.

On the promotion slowdown in 1987:9

“The no. 1 issue, no. 1 concern, no. 1 problem in the Air Force 

today is the promotion situation. Not only from those people who are 

holding a line number, but those people who hope to get promoted, and 

even those people like chief master sergeants who can’t get promoted but 

are concerned for their people.

“I just don’t think that a lot of people understand the ramifications 

of our promotion system. That is, we are restricted as to how many people 

we can have in each pay grade and we historically have promoted to the 

maximum in each pay grade.”10 

“When FY [fiscal year] 87 promotion time came we did not have 

approval authority for the remaining increases but we felt they would be 

approved. It was a gamble, and we lost. I know a lot of people find it hard to 

believe, but the promotion delay was not caused by budget cuts, I can assure you 

that is true.

“The good news is we’re confident that we’ll be out of this delayed 

promotion situation by the end of December. We’ll be back on track, 

however, I predict the numbers will be smaller in future promotion cycles 

for the next couple of years due to continued good retention and reduction 

in force size.”11 

“I remember in the 1950s when promotions were frozen. That 

meant there weren’t any promotions at all. So, the possibility is there. 

The percentages are small, but at least we can look up and see that there 

will be some stripes forthcoming. Given that information, the idea is to be 

competitive and go for it.

“Some people will rationalize that, well, if I had been given a medal 

from my last unit I would have been competitive. That is rationalization. 

They should never use that, as far as I’m concerned. If they had studied 

harder and made five more points on their score, the medal would be a 

moot point.”12 

157
158
159
On involuntary overseas extensions:13

“I went to Germany just before the changes were announced. 

Though there was uncertainty, moral was high. Then, after the tour 

extensions were announced, I visited nearly every Air Force unit in 

England. Most people I talked with wanted to stay in Europe longer. The 

Air Force did a good job handling a potentially demoralizing situation by 

keeping everyone informed why these changes were necessary.

“Many weren’t [happy]. That was a difficult decision, but 

we’re doing all we can to end the program. Given the time and budget 

constraints, we had to decide how best to cut PCS [permanent change of 

station] costs quickly. Now we are exploring additional ways to cut moving 

costs. We can probably save money moving people to a base nearer their 

current assignment, if there is a vacancy or requirement. That doesn’t 

mean everyone returning from Europe will go to an East Coast base just 

because it’s cheaper. Mission requirements still come first.14 

On issues that threatened recruiting and 

retention during his tenure:

“Smaller pay raises, for one thing. Plus, the perception bluesuiters are losing benefits. It reminds me of the talk in the ‘70s about 

an ‘erosion of benefits.’ We weren’t losing a lot of benefits, just 

perceiving a loss.

“We need to inform people about what is happening to benefits. 

Then, when they read rumors about benefits in a local newspaper, they 

might not jump to conclusions or make a rash decision to leave the 

Air Force.

“[Benefits] are important, but satisfaction is a more important 

motive to stay on. Satisfaction with where you are, who you work for and, 

especially, how you’re treated. When you go to the personnel or finance 

office, do you get prompt, efficient service? We’ve got the best medicine in 

the world and top-notch doctors, but sometimes, in some places, getting 

an appointment is major problem. We’ve got to become more efficient at 

providing these services.”15 

“People very quickly could fall into the mode of not caring if 

people want to stay in. We have to care. The plan is to keep the very best 

people. A good way to do that is to provide them a lifestyle that makes it 

comfortable for them to stay. Then we can make great demands on them. 

We can have high standards and work them very hard. Because when the 

smoke clears, we’re still going to have an Air Force.”16

On changes to enlisted professional military 

education during his tenure:

“We’re putting the M back into PME by shifting to a more practical 

curriculum. We’re reducing the time spent in world affairs and devoting 

more to NCO subjects—things NCOs need to do their jobs—and writing 

exercises that relate to the job such as performance reports, staff summaries, 

and talking papers. We’re not eliminating world affairs; since we make 

PME-completion a major factor for promotion, shouldn’t we then ensure 

that the curriculum closely relates to supervision and management?”17

On the transition from the Airman Performance 

Report (APR) to the Enlisted Performance Report (EPR) 

and Performance Feedback Worksheet:

“[APRs] had become, in my opinion, a meaningless document 

because 98 percent of the Air Force had the same . . . [rating]. I was never 

convinced—nor am I today—that 98 percent [of the force] is perfect; and 

essentially that’s what we were telling them, that 98 percent of the Air Force 

is perfect. And when you give everybody the same report card, then you 

hurt the people who are truly the exception. The old APR . . . was not a bad 

system. We had just abused it to the point [where] it was ineffective. If we 

had followed the regulation and treated it the way it was designed years ago, 

then it would have served us forever because it was well designed. It had just 

[come to the point where] if you [didn’t] get a nine, you were dead.

“Somehow we had come to think that if you didn’t get a report 

card all the way to the right, there was something wrong. I was just hoping 

that, over time, we would accept a report card that might not be all the way 

to the right.

“Feedback was something I thought was absolutely essential—still 

do. It wasn’t done very well in the beginning, but I saw it as a tool to help 

supervisors in many ways. You’ve told them up front what your standards 

are; at midpoint you said, ‘this is how well you’re doing’—or not doing—and 

then the report card.”18

“We needed to [make some changes] quickly, before we got too far 

into the evaluation system.19 If we had waited too long, there would have 

been more reports rendered, and we would have had to have gone back and 

possibly redo those. So we just felt that if we’re going to do something, now 

is the time to do it. And it was done very quickly. We had a gut feeling—from 

conversations with senior NCOs and commanders that this thing was not as 

smooth as we thought it might have been.”20

“When we first started last May, our education program was not as 

comprehensive as I would have liked. Some people did a superb job. Those 

who didn’t were the root cause for a lot of misconceptions, myths, and just 

plain misunderstanding around the Air Force-it was a reflection of the 

quality of the education program.

160
“We’re going to put additional emphasis on educating everyone, 

including senior raters, officers, supervisors, civilian supervisors—anyone 

who’s in that process should be educated and told how to render a report 

under the new Enlisted Evaluation System.

“We should completely forget the APR philosophy. We need to 

take this new evaluation system and rate people based on their performance 

today not try to conjure up some kind of equalization table that says a ‘7’ 

[APR] is equal to a ‘3’ [EPR] because it’s not. If I give a master sergeant 

a ‘3’ under the new system, I’m going to slow him down. He won’t get 

promoted as fast, but I’m saying he’s a satisfactory performer and should 

be considered for promotion. Will he be promoted? That depends on his 

whole record.”21

“It will take a while for people to get used to it, understand it, and 

accept it. Some people will never accept it. They’ll just have to leave - so 

we’ll do that through attrition.”22

On his experience working as the chief of 

the Chief’s Group:

“I, like a lot of people in the Air Force, had some preconceived 

notions about personnel; I think personnel gets a bad rap because of the 

business that they’re in. They’re either moving you or promoting you or 

educating you, and those are things that are near and dear to everyone’s 

heart. So if you can’t satisfy everyone, obviously you’re going to have a bad 

reputation. The training, the exposure I got while working at the Chiefs’ 

Group, I think, [enabled me to] go out and defend the personnel system. 

When you’re standing on stage and someone is upset with the personnel 

system—either they didn’t get promoted or they didn’t get the assignment 

they wanted—it certainly helps...to be able to...explain the system...from 

the standpoint of having worked there and understanding the system.”23

On master sergeants attending the Senior 

NCO Academy:

“When I was a chief-selectee, I felt cheated because I had a strong 

need for [the information gained at the academy] a lot earlier. And I felt 

that the payback would be greater [if] we would expose master sergeants 

to this information. That’s the beginning of the senior NCO corps. We 

call master sergeants senior NCOs; we include them in the Top 3; we call 

it the Senior NCO Academy, yet we don’t send them to the senior school. 

The primary purpose would be to send the master sergeants earlier to 

take advantage of this newfound knowledge, and they would be better 

prepared, I think, to move into the senior and chief ranks, and take those 

positions of greater responsibility.”24

On the future role of women in the military and the 

potential for a female Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force:

“[In the past], female members would get promoted up to a 

particular grade—usually a master sergeant or senior master sergeant—and 

then get frustrated with the system because they could see that they are not 

going to get the choice positions that other chiefs might get. [Today], young 

women at the staff or tech sergeant level [can] see that ‘Hey, there is a reason 

for me to stay in the Air Force.’ And they are obviously staying longer and 

doing quite well, I think, in being competitive for jobs. It’s just a matter of 

time before we have a very serious candidate for Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force who happens to be a woman.”25

On the mission of the Air Force Enlisted Village:

“Our mission at the village is simply to provide a home. It started 

out with only Air Force enlisted widows, but over the years we have changed 

that to include a lot of different kinds of people. We take care of Air Force 

enlisted widows first and foremost, that’s the priority. Then we have moral 

dependents, when it’s just the right thing to do.

“It’s not just a retirement home for widows. It is a community. It’s 

an extension of the Air Force family, and we are very proud to provide that. 

The village is not a place where people go to die; it’s a place where people go 

to live. . . . We don’t just provide an apartment; it’s a way of life.”26

On how he would like to be remembered:

“That I did my best. I would hope most people would say the same 

thing . . . and that’s all you can do. That’s all that the country can ask of you 

. . . that you do your best. That’s how I’d like to be remembered.”27

161
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Gary R. Pfingston

August 1, 1990 - October 25, 1994

Gary R. Pfingston was born on 2 

January 1940 in Evansville, Indiana. In 

the mid-1950s, his parents moved west 

to southern California, looking for better 

job opportunities. Pfingston quickly 

adapted. He became an avid athlete, 

competing in football, baseball, and 

wrestling. He graduated from Torrance 

High School in 1958, and later enrolled 

in El Camino College. 

He was a young man with big 

plans. He worked for the Redondo Beach 

Recreation Department, delivered papers 

for the Los Angeles Times, married his 

sweetheart, Marsha A. Hunt, and was 

scheduled to attend Long Beach State 

University. But on Christmas Eve 1961, 

a month after his marriage, the plan 

changed. He received a draft notice with 

a scheduled physical date of 2 January 

1962. It would be his 22nd birthday. 

After his physical, Pfingston 

considered his options. A draft deferment 

was not a possibility, as he was not a 

full-time student, and even though he 

was married, he did not have a child to 

support. Knowing military service was 

in his future, he decided to enlist in the 

Air Force. He packed his bags and left for 

Lackland AFB, Texas, in February 1962. 

Following basic training, the Air Force 

selected Pfingston to serve as an aircraft 

mechanic. He moved to Amarillo, Texas, 

where he attended technical training, 

while his wife lived off base with a friend. 

He then received his young family’s first 

assignment: Castle AFB, California. 

 

At Castle AFB, Pfingston began 

to enjoy and adapt to the military lifestyle. 

He worked as a crew chief on B-52 

Stratofortress long-range bombers and 

played a role in the Cuban missile crisis 

of 1962. He played fast-pitch softball 

during his down time and later attended 

the NCO Preparatory School. As his 

initial enlistment came to an end, the Air 

Force offered him a bonus to reenlist. He 

had no problem taking the money and 

continuing to serve. 

162
“I thought, hey, this is a pretty damn good deal,” said Pfingston, 

reflecting on the decision years later. “Why get out? Because there was 

a limited amount of money in the bonus program, people had to reenlist 

quickly or the money might be gone. I think I got $1,800, and that was a 

lot of money at that time.”1

Two years later, the Pfingstons moved to Plattsburgh AFB, New 

York, where he continued to work as a crew chief on B-52s and KC135 Stratotanker aerial refueling aircraft. He was later assigned as the 

noncommissioned officer-in-charge (NCOIC) of the aircraft records, 

documentation, and debriefing sections and was promoted to technical 

sergeant. In 1972 he was assigned to U-Tapao Royal Thai AB, Thailand, 

for one year. 

Pfingston’s career took a turn when he returned from Thailand 

in 1973. He was stationed at Lackland AFB and assigned as a military 

training instructor. Although he was initially hesitant to embrace a role he 

felt was not his type of work, Pfingston found he “just absolutely loved it.” 

It was a three-year tour, but in 1981, eight-and-a-half years after arriving 

at Lackland, Pfingston, now senior master sergeant, was finishing his last 

of five year-long extensions.2

Pfingston and his family then moved to Anderson AFB, Guam, but 

shortly after arriving, Pfingston broke his back while working on a C-141 

Starlifter. He was airlifted to Wilford Hall in San Antonio, Texas, where 

he spent 147 days receiving treatment for a fractured vertebra, herniated 

disks, and sciatic nerve damage. 

When he returned to Guam, he assumed the role of first sergeant 

and quickly grew to understand the importance of caring for Airmen 

and the critical role of families. He made chief master sergeant and was 

then assigned to George AFB, California, where he began his service as 

a senior enlisted leader. He was selected as the senior enlisted adviser 

for the 831st Air Division at George AFB, then hired by Lt Gen Merrill 

A. McPeak as the 12th Air Force senior enlisted adviser. McPeak later 

tapped Pfingston to serve in the same role for Pacific Air Forces, which he 

did until the summer of 1990. 

 

In August 1990, Chief of Staff of the Air Force Gen Michael J. 

Dugan selected Pfingston to serve as the 10th Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force (CMSAF).3

 He knew immediately that the job would be 

tough. The Air Force would continue to draw down—when Pfingston 

became the CMSAF in August 1990, the Air Force had 535,2334 active 

duty Airmen, but by 1994 that number had dropped to 422,3205

—the 

budget would continue to decrease, and the Air Force was prepping for, 

at that time, a possible air war in the Middle East.

Despite the challenges, Pfingston continued to move the enlisted 

force forward. He focused on quality of life issues such as housing, pay, and 

medical benefits and continued to move toward a one-plus-one dormitory 

standard. He helped inaugurate the Year of Training initiative that resulted 

in, among other things, career field education and training plans, threelevel and seven-level technical schools for all career fields, and mandatory 

in-residence professional military education (PME) for all Airmen.6

 He also 

eliminated the E-4 “buck” sergeant rank, and made significant changes to 

the uniform, including moving the master sergeant stripe from the bottom 

of the chevron to the top.

Pfingston retired in 1994 but remained active in Air Force events 

until he died of cancer on 23 June 2007. Before his passing, Pfingston 

did not sit down for a long-form oral history interview. However, many of 

his thoughts and words were captured in print at various points during his 

30-plus years of service. The following are quotes and perspectives that 

Pfingston shared as he reflected on his Air Force career. 

On his role and preparation during the 

Cuban missile crisis:7

“I went to work one day with a pack of cigarettes and two dollars and 

didn’t get to go home for 30 days. We were locked on base. We upgraded 

all the airplanes and put them on alert. We had to stay with our airplane. 

We lived there. But, we were prepared for such occurrences. The training 

program in those days was much different than it is today. You had schools 

that you went to for every skill level, and they were mandatory. Another 

difference is the SKT [Specialty Knowledge Test] you take today as part of 

your WAPS [Weighted Airman Promotion System]. You had to take the SKT 

and pass it with a certain percentile score to get your three level, five level, 

and seven level. And you had to complete a formalized training program 

prior to testing.”8

On pay and benefits during his early career:

“There weren’t very many people who stayed and made careers out 

of the Air Force because of pay and entitlements, or benefits. There weren’t 

any. Back then, unless you were an E-4 with four years of service, your 

spouse received no benefits or entitlements—you couldn’t ship household 

goods, spouses didn’t get travel pay. You couldn’t even live in base housing—

you had to be an E-4 [with] over four [years in] to . . . get on the list. Every 

Airman in the Air Force lived off base. . . . Most of the first-term Airmen in 

the Air Force, that I was aware of, were there to [avoid being] drafted in [to] 

the Army.”9

163
On his experience during his one-year assignment 

in Thailand in 1972:

“I started in aircraft maintenance again, B-52s and tankers, 

and then I moved into the DCM [deputy commander for maintenance] 

maintenance control area. We had a lot of planes on the base. There 

was a lot of reconfiguring of airplanes—what was called the “iron belly” 

modifications so B-52s could carry conventional bombs. Up until that 

time, B-52s were designed to exclusively carry nuclear weapons. That’s 

when we first started using B-52s in a conventional war. We modified 

them to carry 500-pound bombs and put external bomb racks on 

them, also.

“A big difference between a war deployment then and now is the 

communication process. The only ways we could communicate with our 

families . . . [were] by mail or the MARS [Military Affiliate Radio System]. 

MARS was run by volunteer radio operators. Once a month, I would sit in 

a MARS station for probably eight to ten hours waiting for my turn. The 

radio operators would relay conversations sentence-by-sentence. I know 

in Desert Storm we had AT&T commercial telephones, and I understand 

in Bosnia they communicated on the Internet, on computers.”10

On his experience at Lackland AFB in the 

mid to late 1970s:

“The biggest thing we went through, I guess, was the change from 

the draft to an all-volunteer force. Even today, I think it was a great thing 

to do. The quality of the Airmen didn’t change. As a matter of fact, it might 

have gotten better because we had more people [entering] the Air Force 

for the right reasons. They were volunteering to come in—not coming in 

to avoid the draft.

“We started to do a lot of integration of males and females—male 

instructors with female flights and female instructors with male flights. 

We were bringing in more women, and more of them were attaining NCO 

status, and a lot of our young men were leaving basic training and going to 

work for female supervisors. Not long after that, we integrated squadrons 

to include male and female flights.

“Overall, these years were not good years, as I recall, for the Air 

Force. Those were what were referred to as the hollow forces of the ’70s. 

Being a young senior NCO at the time, I can say it was not very good. We 

went for a long time without a pay raise. Our reenlistment rates were low, 

and we were drawing down from the Vietnam years. We got so small, so 

fast. All of a sudden a base would become 50 to 60 percent manned, with 

no money, and you couldn’t do your job. We were killing people, working 

them to death. We couldn’t fix airplanes because we didn’t have money to 

buy parts. We didn’t have money to fly them if they were fixed. So flight 

crews were not getting proper training. We learned from that experience 

and did things differently when we had to do the drawdowns of the ’90s.

“Personally, two things of great professional importance happened 

to me while at Lackland. First, I started getting involved in supervision 

of people and leadership roles. I truly believe that my experience as a TI 

[training instructor] is the reason I ultimately succeeded as a chief. Being a 

TI is probably the best training ground in the Air Force for people programs. 

Second, I met CMSgt Bob Beilke. He became my role model. He saw that, as 

a technical sergeant, I wasn’t doing everything I could do to improve myself 

or the Air Force. Don’t get me wrong, I was good—I was selected instructor 

of the year. Chief Beilke sat me down and told me to either ‘Get all the way 

in or get out of my Air Force.’ His guidance inspired me to attain the grade 

of senior master sergeant before leaving Lackland in 1981.”11 

On the drawdown during his tenure as the 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force:

“We have to be smart on how we manage our people so we can avoid 

those situations [where Airmen are unable to do their job due to manning]. 

We have to draw down the structure and force size in a systematic, 

programmatic way. We can’t have a smaller force doing the job designed 

for a larger force. We need to strike a balance between the number of 

people we’ll have and the number of locations where they’ll be stationed. 

We have to draw down the end strength and force structure to prevent the 

‘hollow’ force of the 1970s. If we make this draw down smartly, we can ease 

some of the pain of getting smaller. But we can be smaller and better at the 

same time.”12

“The main thing I’m concerned about is the continuing drawdown, 

making sure we do that in as smooth and orderly a fashion as we possibly 

can, knowing we’re already now targeting in FY [fiscal year] ’94 about 

4,500 additional separations. Those are numbers in addition to how many 

normally separate from the Air Force. I want to make sure we do everything 

smoothly so we can continue to be as fair to our people as they are to us. 

But unfortunately that’s the deck of cards we have been dealt, so we have to 

play ’em.”13

“I’m pretty excited and pleased that we have been able to manage 

this for three years now through a voluntary mode, when you understand 

what the alternatives are (involuntary separations). So the No. 1 thing on 

my agenda for ’94 is to continue with that process, then obviously await 

anxiously what we think is going to be required for ’95. We work that six 

months to a year out, so we had to start making initial decisions on what we 

think the end strength numbers are going to look like in FY 95. I just hope 

we can continue to manage it as well as we have in the past.”14

164
“[General McPeak] and I talked and decided that we were going 

to do everything voluntarily, as best we could. We were not going to do 

involuntary separations until it was absolutely the last resort. And that’s 

why we worked so hard to get the VSI [voluntary separation incentive] 

and SSB [special separation bonus] programs. Probably well over half 

of my efforts during ’91 and ’92 and into ’93 were spent working the 

drawdown. The personnel enlisted leaders played a major role in these 

programs. Chiefs like Dale Reed, Jimmy Tanner, and Josh Krebbs helped 

plan and organize our efforts, under the direction of General [Billy J.] 

Boles. We got out in front and took a big gamble in ’92—we decided to do 

two years’ worth of drawdowns in one year.”15

On the drawdown’s effect on promotions:

“If we continue to manage (the drawdown) in all areas to keep 

the force structure in balance the right number of first termers, secondtermers, career NCOs and senior NCOs—promotions should stay 

basically what we’ve known for a couple years, as well as assignments and 

career opportunities, and so forth. But, if we don’t keep it in balance and 

we don’t get the right numbers in all of these different areas of the 20- or 

30-year career, then it could affect those things.

“People need to remember, especially in the promotion system, 

we promote to vacancies. Where there are vacancies there will continue 

to be promotions. And when there are no vacancies then you don’t 

promote anybody.

“I think we will keep the promotion opportunities about the 

same. I don’t see them changing much, maybe a point or two up or down. 

That’s pretty much been the track record for the last three or four years. 

When you promote the same percentage of a smaller, eligible pool, then 

fewer people get promoted.

“So, just because you see a shorter list doesn’t always mean the 

promotion opportunities are going down, it just means 10 percent of 100 

is more people than 10 percent of 10. That will happen. There will be 

shorter promotion lists because of a smaller eligible pool. My priority is to 

try to do everything we can to keep the whole process balanced so it doesn’t 

affect these kinds of things. We can pretty much keep all the tidal waves 

out of the water. There may be some ripples, but no tidal waves to wash 

us overboard.”16

On the one-to-one dorm standard initiative, then 

referred to as VISION 2020:

“We’ve been working on that for several years. There again, it’s a 

vision, exactly like the title says. But you have to do that. I think you have to 

look into the future a long time before you arrive, otherwise you find out, 

hey, all of a sudden we’re there and we hadn’t prepared for it.

“I guess we kind of had a vision for 1990 in 1960. In 1960 we 

didn’t have a whole lot of problems with dorm rooms because we didn’t have 

any. And then when we got rooms, we didn’t have a whole lot of squarefootage problems because we didn’t have a whole lot in the rooms. That was 

before the high-tech, big-screen TVs, stereos, stereo speakers, and what 

not. When we finally got rooms in the ‘60s and ‘70s, about all we had in the 

rooms were metal bunk beds, a desk, two chairs and a wall locker—if we were 

lucky. About the only electronic stuff we owned were these little cigarette 

pack-sized transistor radios.

“Without a doubt, the most important thing we need to do is work 

on dormitory privacy. I really think it’s a crime to take somebody, the best of 

the best that we can recruit, bring them in the Air Force and say, “I’m sorry, 

you’ll have to have a roommate.” I just can’t understand that mentality. I 

raised two sons in the United States Air Force. Both of them are well into 

their 20s now, but when they were 10 or 12 years old living in base housing, 

they were authorized their own bedrooms. If they were in the Air Force, they 

would have to have a roommate. We’ve got a lot of work to do, but I think it’s 

a great program, and I think it’s an example of the senior leadership of the 

Air Force, the chief of staff, signing up to this and saying this is important. 

For many years we’ve given dormitory privacy a lot of lip service. Now we 

have something on paper, and we have signatures from senior leaders saying 

this is what they will step up to and work toward for the future.

“For the Airmen of 2010 and 2020, it’s going to be a great thing. 

And we need to do a better job of articulating the fact that we have Airmen 

who wear the uniform today who can wear this uniform in the year 2020 

or 2023.”17

165
166
167
On the 1992 Year of Training Initiative—

“There have been a lot of gray areas and misunderstandings over 

who does functional training and when, and who does education and when. 

It was a hit-and-miss operation, trying to design an enlisted curriculum that 

serviced staffs, techs, and masters in the same class. Who did you focus on 

and who did you teach, and what did you teach them? The concept of PME 

is to prepare people for positions of greater responsibility, so having said 

that, were we preparing staffs to be techs? Were we preparing techs to be 

masters? Or, were we just catching up with the masters and teaching them 

something we should have given them 10 years ago?

“So this ‘Year of Training’ fits right in with the Quality Air Force. 

It’s an opportunity to build enlisted career paths, where every Airman 

coming in the door at Lackland can take a clean sheet of paper, write down 

the grades on one side and the corresponding requirements for each grade 

on the other. It just flows naturally in this streamlined, focused, Quality 

Air Force concept.

“It should encourage people, because they’re going to be given 

everything that they need and probably more than they’ve ever been given 

before. So, it should enhance their career opportunities.”18

On Airmen in Operation Desert Storm:

“Their performance in Operation Desert Storm illustrates that 

the quality of our enlisted force is unsurpassed by any nation. In large 

part due to [Congress’s] past efforts, we fielded a superbly trained, highly 

motivated fighting force that won the respect of people worldwide. I was 

fortunate enough to visit our troops in the Persian Gulf in January of 

[1991]. I was prouder and more enthusiastic than at any time during my 

29 years in the military to be associated with the fighting men and women 

of today’s Air Force. They were ready and it showed. Superior training 

tactics, equipment, and operational art proved to be the edge.

“Airmen in the Persian Gulf are representative of our Airmen 

everywhere. As I travel around the world talking to the men and women in 

the Air Force, it is evident that we are continuing to recruit the best and 

provide them top-notch training.

“In recent months, we have asked our people to make immense 

sacrifices on behalf of their nation. The casualties of war—killed, wounded, 

and missing—have already given far in excess of what we could ever repay. 

Military service will always require the willingness to make these sacrifices 

and our warriors realize this. They served honorably in Operation Urgent 

Fury in Grenada and Operation Just Cause in Panama. The world watched 

as they served with pride and distinction in Operation Desert Storm.

“These actions have provided us with the most valuable resource 

possible for our armed forces—battle-tested and trained warriors. These 

are experienced people we need to meet future threats to our country and 

to train tomorrow’s Airmen. We have a moral obligation to appropriately 

care for the men and women who volunteer to shoulder our country’s 

military burden.”19 

“I was impressed with what I saw. While there, I noticed how 

smoothly the operations were running, and it doesn’t surprise me because 

of how good the men and women of the Air Force are at what they do. This 

is also testimony to how good the preparation and training necessary to 

conduct such a large-scale operation was. What surprised me is that we 

have people who never knew each other before who are working, living and 

socializing so well together.

“The thing that is most on their minds is the health and well-being 

of their loved ones’ back home. Ironically, the thing most on the minds of 

the loved ones’ back home is the health and well-being of those deployed. 

That speaks well for our Air Force, the American way of life and our 

society. Whether you have a family or not, there’s still a feeling of family 

and togetherness.”20

On the Role of NCOs:

“I see the role of NCOs becoming possibly more dynamic—NCOs 

playing a bigger role in the management decision-making processes in the 

Air Force. We live in a very high-tech world because of what we do, because 

of what we are all about. I’m continually amazed as I travel around the Air 

Force and see some of the incredibly high-tech roles that enlisted people 

play in their day-to-day operations.

“Those roles will change directly proportionate to the new 

organization. We will continue to be the number one Air Force in the 

number one country in the world. The size of our force will be driven by 

all the outside influences. But, flattening of the layers of management 

and command will take place. I see jobs that will be great positions with a 

tremendous amount of responsibility and authority in not only management 

but in leadership and decision making in our day-to-day activities as well. 

There will be an awful lot of great jobs that people will want to have, and 

jobs that we need to fill with dedicated professionals. The positions will be 

taskings of high priority and require incredibly top-notch people.21

168
On phasing out the E-4 “Buck” Sergeant Rank:

“It was a balancing issue. We found ourselves out of balance in the 

NCO percentages of the total enlisted structure. Over three-quarters of 

the enlisted force were NCOs and it would have been 80 percent without 

the change.

“Becoming an NCO requires that you be placed in a position 

in which responsibility is commensurate with the title. There was no 

competition for E-4 sergeant promotion seemingly became an automatic 

appointment process. This was due to downsizing and restructuring—it 

created an imbalance. We had to make the move—it was a pay-me-now or 

pay-me-later issue. It’s difficult to do whenever you do it, but it was a move 

that would be more difficult later.”22

On advice for Airmen:

“Be the best you can be in your chosen field and in your particular 

responsibility that you have at a particular time. Sometimes, being anxious 

about tomorrow (causes) you not to (focus) on today. Most of the time 

tomorrow will take care of itself if you are truly focused on today.”23

169
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

David J. Campanale

October 26, 1994 - November 4, 1996

David Campanale was born 

in 1952, raised in the inner city of 

Worcester, Massachusetts, and grew up 

to be a good athlete with considerable 

smarts. As he put it, he “had the world 

by the throat.” After high school, when 

sports did not work out, he realized he 

had to make a change and find another 

profession. With some encouragement 

from his mom, he joined the Air Force in 

September 1970.

Campanale’s Air Force career 

began with a rough patch. He broke 

his collarbone in tech school and had 

trouble taking notes and studying for 

tests. He made a surprise visit home on 

Christmas only to find his high school 

girlfriend had found a romance with 

someone else, and his mom had left 

town for the holidays. He also struggled 

with his career development courses 

(CDC). But thanks to good supervisors 

who challenged him and taught him the 

importance of professionalism, his career 

soon took off. He became an excellent 

B-52 Stratofortress crew chief, deploying 

multiple times to Guam during the latter 

stages of the Vietnam War. He later 

worked on C-130 Hercules transports, 

the FB-111A Aardvark tactical attack 

aircraft, and the KC-135 Stratotanker 

aerial refueling aircraft and was promoted 

to master sergeant under the Stripes to 

Exceptional Performers program.

In October 1994 Gen Ronald 

Fogleman selected Campanale to be 

the 11th Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force (CMSAF). During his 

tenure, he fought for the one-plus-one 

dorm standard, remembering his living 

conditions during Vietnam and vowing 

to make a change. He led the Air Force 

through changes to TRICARE health 

care program and resisted a proposed 

change to retirement. Campanale 

retired in November 1996 after 26 years 

on active duty.

170
In November 2015 Campanale sat down for an interview to 

discuss his Air Force career and his tenure as the CMSAF. During the 

interview, he spoke of his initial challenges and his experiences deploying 

back and forth to Guam during the Vietnam War. He also shared how 

he was able to convince the secretary of defense to sign off on the oneplus-one dorm standard and his memory of the initial aftermath of the 

tragic Khobar Towers bombing. The following are edited excerpts from 

the conversation.

Well Chief . . . we’ll just start at the beginning. 

I know you joined the Air Force in 1970, which 

was arguably the height of the Vietnam War. 

I’m curious as to what pushed you to the Air 

Force at that time?

Well, as a matter of fact, I came in seven days before my 18th 

birthday, so my mom had to sign for me to go in. And the real reason was 

to just find a career, something to do, an opportunity to go to school and 

receive an education. I was a pretty good athlete, and I thought something 

like that may pan out; but, when I played against other pretty good athletes, 

I found I really couldn’t stack up to a lot of them at that time. So, my mom 

wanted me to get an education and didn’t necessarily think community 

college was the best thing for me. She wanted some place where I could 

get some discipline, mature a little bit, and be among professionals—not 

necessarily in my home town. It’s funny, I often talk about that quite a bit. 

I often wondered why you have to be born here, raised here, live here, 

and spend the rest of your life here. There was a big world out there, and I 

often conveyed those thoughts to my mom; so, she thought joining the Air 

Force would be a good thing for a lot of reasons.

You went on to tech school and then to your first 

assignment, and I know you had a challenging start 

to your career. You broke your collarbone in tech 

school, had some troubles with grades, troubles 

with your CDCs. What do you attribute to some of 

those early challenges?

Well the collarbone was just bad luck. We were playing football on 

the field, and I was running—and the goal post got in the way. I remember 

that, and I still feel it every now and again when the weather gets a little 

bit cold. So, that really slowed down all the time in tech school. That was a 

big difference maker for me because I was constantly in pain and trying to 

learn. That was difficult.

I think the other early troubles, with CDCs for example, was 

just immaturity on my part—maybe some poor study habits and learning 

habits. I had a great bunch of supervisors on our team on the flight line. 

Tony Saenz was my supervisor there, George Juno who was really funny 

because he stuttered a lot and so we used to sing some of the instructions on 

how to do certain processes on the flight line. They were good, good guys, 

and they really tried hard; but, they were young NCOs [noncommissioned 

officers] who really weren’t a byproduct of professional military education 

[PME] and how to understand and coach and teach and document and to 

follow up. So, I think all of those things kind of contributed to a little bit of a 

struggle at first.

I imagine so. Understanding the little that I do about 

the Air Force during Vietnam and just the culture at 

that time, I’ve heard from others that there was less 

of a focus on discipline or standards. Did that play a 

role in the early challenges?

Those were early challenges for everybody to tell you the truth. 

Some people had been in the Air Force longer, and it was easier for them 

to understand. But for a group of people my age who were just starting 

out, both the young officers and the young enlisted people, it was quite a 

challenge because there wasn’t really a focus on quality of life for people. 

The focus was on sortie production, not necessarily safety, not necessarily 

training. As long as we got everything in the air—that was the most 

important thing. 

But good things came from that, because you have to think about 

who were the young officers at that time—Gen Colin Powell, Gen Ronald 

Fogleman, Gen Merrill McPeak, and a whole host of other young officers 

who saw what it shouldn’t be like and became determined in their career 

to demonstrate what it should be like. I can tell you that kind of struck 

me, because as much as you would learn lessons on leadership and 

management, some lessons you learned were not necessarily from the best 

leaders. Sometimes it was from the worst leaders or leaders that were in a 

predicament and had no other options or chose not to make a change. You 

just felt that if you ever got the chance this is not how you would do it.

Of course, everybody says that—it is easy to say. I remember when I 

first started we had a master sergeant who I think was the worst supervisor 

in the entire free world. But he did tell me something. He said, “If you don’t 

like it, get out of my Air Force or grow up, change, get promoted, and do 

something about it.” So I started making little notes to myself along the 

way: “If I ever . . .” I kept all those notes and I went through those during 

my career, and I did that on the eve of the day that I was going to be sworn 

in as the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. I looked through those 

notes again and realized that a lot of those things were in place for the right 

reason. They couldn’t be changed. I also thought there were some things 

that could be changed and maybe the timing wasn’t right 10, 15 years ago. 

Maybe now the timing was right, so we focused in on those types of things. 

So, for all his lack of ability, he did teach me some valuable lessons. I think a 

lot of that came out of the Vietnam War.

171
You certainly overcame your early challenges. 

What was it that shifted for you?

I think it was a variety of things. At that time the full PME wasn’t 

in place, but we had an NCO orientation course that lasted three weeks. I 

think that helped quite a bit. It was kind of funny because the gentleman 

who was the instructor was our maintenance officer, and he had been 

RIF’d [reduction in force] and he accepted a demotion back to become a 

staff sergeant to teach. So, I kind of took a look at that and said, “Okay, he 

was captain and now he is a staff sergeant and he is teaching professional 

military education at its lowest level.” He did a really good job and he 

accepted that and he recognized there were other things to do. So, I think 

that helped—and then having children and getting married. You grow up a 

little bit, and I think that creates better awareness for you.

It’s an interesting perspective on PME as you’ve 

seen it grown from the infant stages. Is PME one 

of the biggest shifts we’ve made toward the 

professionalism of the enlisted force?

Oh, I think it is, and I think it was consistent with the times. When 

I went into the Air Force in 1970 there was still a draft, but we ended up 

going to an all-volunteer force. And there was a focus from the leadership 

at that time recognizing that we just couldn’t have the same amount of 

people. We almost had a million people in the US Air Force. We had 

so many programs that we wanted to put into place that cost money; so, 

sometimes the tradeoff was personnel. I remember what some of the 

buildings looked like, the barracks. We didn’t even call them dormitories 

then. Dormitory became another word that sounded better than barracks. 

There were so many things that had to be done. I think they recognized we 

just had to get more out of fewer people, and that kind of fit in with an allvolunteer force. Part of that was we had to have greater expectations for our 

enlisted force. The leadership at that time recognized that it could be done. 

But again, as wonderful as everybody was, there were some enhancements 

that needed to be made, and professional military education was a 

big part of that.

One of the other things, education-wise, that happened 

early in your career was the Community College of the 

Air Force (CCAF). It was established in 1972; you were a 

young Airman at the time. Do you recall that?

In 1972 I didn’t recall very much except paydays and how poor they 

were, and just getting to work on time—doing the best that I could. Life was 

very, very simple at that time, and I was young, supporting my family. As 

time goes on, you discover some things, and I think it’s because you look 

to discover or somebody helps you discover. So, the Community College 

of the Air Force was a big part of that. I remember going to school at night 

and how hard that was. I’m reminded of that today—when I come down from 

Colorado here (to Arizona), one of the first things I do when I get home—

because I haven’t seen the family for maybe three to four weeks—I take my 

briefcase and I place it in the corner. I remember Thursday nights getting 

off school. We were gone Monday through Thursday at night school; so, I 

would take my books and throw them in the corner. I would take a reprieve 

on Friday night, then do a little bit of studying on Saturday and Sunday night. 

When I earned my degree that was a special moment for me, particularly 

because it is what I wanted to do. Learning was fun, but the work was hard 

and it was a goal accomplished.

What was the perception of education among the 

enlisted force at the time? I’ve heard some were 

ridiculed for trying to get their education. Others say 

it became a greater focus and more important as the 

years went on. 

I always thought it became a greater focus, and it was the right thing 

to do. We used to ask Airmen when I was the Chief, “Why did you join 

the Air Force?” A lot of times education was the number one answer, and 

then people would say, “To see the world.” The service and what Airmen 

can give is predicated on how well educated they are—both personally and 

professionally. So to work through a degree in the Community College of 

the Air Force wasn’t always about a degree for after the Air Force, even 

though that is good for our country. It was a degree for while you were in 

the Air Force. So, I think it was the exact right thing to do at the time. There 

were some naysayers, because some people thought that’s all they wanted to 

do, but most people would find the right balance and do the right things.

You were a B-52 crew chief and deployed back and 

forth to Guam a few times in support of Vietnam. What 

do you recall about those deployments?

So it was called “Bullet Shot.”

172
Why was that?

I don’t know. It was called Bullet Shot, and we called it “The herd 

shot ’round the world.” The troops had a little fun with that. It was our 

first deployment, and most of us were excited to go because we had been 

a garrison force as part of Strategic Air Command [SAC]. We just did the 

same thing every day and practiced for what we hoped would never come. 

So, we were now deployed in a conventional operation.

I can remember when we got off the plane that brought us to 

Guam. We had flown all night and had a long day ahead of us, but we threw 

our bags in the room and went right to work on the flight line because 

aircraft were coming behind us. They didn’t have buses to bring us in; so, 

we rode around in converted old cattle cars that were used to move cattle 

around. That’s why we called ourselves “the herd shot ’round the world,” 

because we took these cattle cars around the base to get to the flight line.

I remember looking out the window and seeing a sign that said, 

“Guam is good by order of the base commander.” I really didn’t have 

high expectations, but most of us were there on orders for 60 days; so, 

we thought, “Okay, no problem.” Then we got extended to 90 days, 

then 120, and then eventually 179. After the tour, we went back home, 

processed back in, spent a couple of days, and were then told we could go 

do anything we wanted for three weeks. We didn’t have to take any leave. 

We took off for three weeks, and when we came back—boom—we were 

off again for another six months. We did that, came back, again the same 

process, and then deployed again except this time we came back home 

after about three months because of the Yom Kippur War.

It was a rainy, wet place. The first time we lived in the barracks, 

but the second time, we lived in some converted chicken coops we called 

Tin City. If you can imagine living in Tin City, where the roof is this 

far [roughly a foot] from your face and it is pouring rain on the tin roof 

most of the time. There were 200 people that shared two washers and 

dryers . . . five sinks, five showers, and five toilets. It really wasn’t a great 

place to be. But the last time I went back, we were staying in tents, and 

it was far worse than that. It wasn’t a good experience, but it was a living 

experience I remembered throughout my entire career. I always reminded 

myself that our troops should never have to live like that for what they do 

for our country.

After the war ended, you volunteered and went to 

Grisham AFB, Indiana. I think you were a senior airman 

then and, as I understand it, really made a mark on 

your unit. I found that interesting, because many 

would say that as a young Airman you can’t have that 

sort of influence. Why did you have that influence?

Well, first of all, I was never a senior airman—I was a sergeant. A 

senior airman was only created as an additional grade to keep the amount 

of enlisted people or noncommissioned officers below the congressional 

limit. So, I was a sergeant, and I was always looking forward to work on the 

flight line. But I happened to be the lucky person. They assigned me to field 

maintenance to handle logistics and technical orders. I worked with quality 

control to put together deployment kits for cold weather deployments—tool 

kits and all that type of stuff. I learned how to handle a budget and started 

using a computer—a Burroughs 3500. I was like a jack-of-all-trades; so, 

they pulled me away from the flight line to go work in field maintenance and 

work in their logistics division. I learned an awful lot there. Of course, while 

you’re learning, you’re always trying to do your best, and fortunately, I was 

able to have an impact on the unit.

173
What advice would you have for younger Airmen and 

NCOs who maybe feel they don’t have any authority 

or influence to make much of a difference?

Well, the first advice is don’t worry so much about authority. 

Worry more about influence and what you can do. When I was the Chief, 

General [Ronald L.] Fogleman used to say all the time that we’re all small 

little teams. You’re a team within a bigger team, which is part of a bigger 

team and so on. I think that’s a strength and goes to how well we’re able 

to focus and do the little things. When you consider what the US Air 

Force does—and really the entire Armed Forces—not only for America, 

but for the world, they’re able to do it and execute it in such a professional 

fashion. They do everything so quickly and so well. I think people lose 

sight of that bigger picture sometimes. Everybody is valuable in and of 

themselves, and they can influence the team. A team of five people can 

vary in rank from E-8 to E-3, but they function very, very well because 

they all have influence. I think that is the most wonderful thing about the 

Armed Forces of the United States today. We’re in a society where we all 

wear our authority, but we don’t choose to use that unless it is absolutely 

necessary. We instead use the collaboration of everybody’s talents and 

thoughts to produce a better product for America.

A couple years later, you went to NCO Leadership 

School. You talked about PME a little bit already, 

but just to that experience and that moment of your 

career—what stands out to you?

It was fun. The commandant of the school was MSgt John Oulette. 

He was really a super guy. We both had daughters that were the same age 

and liked to play soccer, but there were no soccer leagues, or very few 

soccer leagues that were mostly for boys and not for girls. I thought he 

was a fun guy to be around. He pointed out the fun things. He wasn’t 

necessarily your in-the-box type of guy; he was an outside-the-box kind 

of guy. The staff was great. It was a great educational experience, and I 

remember it quite well because they had a physical fitness award and a 

speech award and I ended up being a distinguished graduate in the class 

and winning the physical fitness and speech award. It was a great time, and 

John and I became friends for life after that.

You mentioned the soccer leagues . . . you were very 

involved in base activities. You actually established a 

soccer league at one point. Why was it important for 

you to get involved?

Well, the first thing that started it was the fact that we were in Hawaii 

and there were a lot of things for young boys to do—but not for the girls. 

There was baseball, soccer, flag football, and a lot of other stuff. I had two 

daughters, and I found that a lot of parents felt the same way. So, we decided 

to work with the American Youth Soccer Organization to put together a 

league of our own—myself, John Oulette, and three or four other people who 

had kids that went to school together and wanted to play soccer together. 

We started out with just four girls’ teams, and at that time there were six 

boys’ teams. We didn’t have any fields; so, we had to create makeshift fields 

and maintain them. We found referees and set up a league organization 

and made sure we complied with the rules of the American Youth Soccer 

Organization. By the time we got done, we had eight leagues and more than 

50 teams.

We had two seasons. We had one season where the boys and girls 

were in separate leagues and then another mixed season where the boys 

and girls could play together on the same team because we felt that was 

important. We tried to make sure the lineups were 50/50 so everyone 

could play. I thought that was a big part of bringing the community together 

on Saturdays.

So, I’m guessing you didn’t do all those things for the 

recognition. What was it that motivated you to help 

out?

I don’t know. First of all, it is your kids, it is your family, and things 

to do. I joined the Air Force Sergeants Association at that time as well and 

did some recruiting for them and thought about what private organizations 

do across America. If you look at it today, there are 800,000 private 

organizations in America. They don’t do it for tax reasons; they do it because 

there is a void in the community that has to be filled, and a lot of times it’s 

focused around children. I was a byproduct of the Boys and Girls Club of 

America. I was an inner-city kid. That’s where we went, and that’s where we 

had our entertainment. We didn’t have that at the base; so, that was really 

the motivation to do that for the kids.

174
You later made Chief and were president of the 

Chief’s group. What do you think is important for 

those professional organizations to do, and what 

impact would you want to see them have on a base?

Well, I think the first thing they have to do is what makes them feel 

good. There is a large number of things that can be done in a community. 

There are children’s programs, programs for seniors, programs for 

people who need a meal, need a break, need a handout, and need a little 

love. All you have to do is care. If you do that, it sets a good example. It’s 

not because you put it in your performance report. It’s because it makes 

you feel good and it’s the right thing to do.

Sure. Tell me a little bit about when you made Chief . . .

My goal was to become a senior master sergeant. I read the little 

clips that only two percent of the force gets to senior master sergeant; 

so, I thought that would be pretty good. I moved on from Pease AFB 

[New Hampshire]. I was at SAC Headquarters and again working in 

logistics, this time as a program manager for the FB-111 weapons system 

for the command. It was a very interesting job, but our boss at the time 

encouraged us to be 15-minute experts on anything. So, you learned to 

be a quick study and work through things quickly.

One of the things I think I always had as a young enlisted person 

was the passion for doing what was right. I learned along the way to put the 

detail and facts behind the passion, and I think that was a mark of being 

a good leader at that time. We were able to do interesting things at SAC 

Headquarters, and I was fortunate to make Chief the first time out. I was 

really surprised, because I received a call at 5 a.m. in the morning. I was 

doing the morning reports. and it was Gen [John T., Jr.] “Jack” Chain who 

was the commander of Strategic Air Command. I answered the phone and 

said, “Bomber Systems Branch, this is Sergeant Campanale. How may I 

help you?” and he says, “Is this Dave Campanale?” I said, “Yes, sir,” and 

he said, “This is Gen Jack Chain. Congratulations.” He called me Chief 

for the first time.

That’s a great story. Not too much later you become 

a senior enlisted leader. Was that the direction you 

wanted to go?

Well, I really didn’t know because when I made Chief it was gravy 

on the potato. We were happy living in Omaha [Nebraska]. The kids were 

going to school, and I really didn’t want to move to California and become 

a wing chief.1 I made Chief at 16 years in the Air Force and still had a lot to 

learn; so, I actually initially declined the first opportunity to interview for a 

wing chief. It was my late wife Barbara—she worked in SAC Headquarters 

and went to the Chief’s office, Jan Boyd, and said, “My husband will 

interview. Just tell him that.” I didn’t want to disrupt the family.

So, we interviewed and got the job and went to California. It was 

quite an experience, because the senior enlisted leader at the time had just 

retired after 30 years. Here I was with less than 18 years in the Air Force, 

with a whole different mind-set and thought process. At that time Castle 

AFB [California] wasn’t renowned for many good things. It had a high DUI 

[driving under the influence] rate, a high Article 15 rate, AWOL [absent 

without leave] rates, a lot of discipline issues, and problems on the base. It 

was a training base, and there were a lot of transitory people. But it was a 

great assignment, and I learned a lot. You go through these stages in your 

life, and you grow up and learn different things by who you’re around and 

the circumstances you’re placed in.

You were later at the Mobility Airlift Command 

(MAC) and were actually there when it evolved to Air 

Mobility Command (AMC), is that correct?2

That’s right. Gen Hansford T. Johnson was the commander of 

MAC, and he chose me as a wing guy to move to a major air command, 

which typically didn’t happen. At that time, usually people would go to 

an air division position or maybe a numbered Air Force position. There 

were several other steps, and I jumped through that, but we seemed to hit 

it off pretty well. He thought that someone from outside of Military Airlift 

Command might have a good and positive influence on the troops.

At that time in the early ’90s; there was quite a bit of 

reorganization. What do you recall about 

that transition?

Well, whenever there is a change, there is always a bit of heartache. 

Looking back on that restructure of the force, it was emotional and painful 

because Strategic Air Command had gone away, and I was a part of that almost 

my entire career. We were going through a Base Realignment and Closure 

[BRAC]; so, units were closing down, the infrastructure was smaller, and it 

had to be that way. Air Mobility Command was part of US Transportation 

Command as well, and General Fogelman was the commander of both. We 

also stood up the Tanker Airlift Control Center at the time.

There were a lot of things we needed to change, because if you look 

at the world events . . . in 1989 the Berlin Wall comes down. The world 

changed immediately after that. We had to respond to world events. The 

motto of Air Mobility Command was “Global Reach for the World, Global 

Power for America.” Making all these command changes was the right 

thing to do at the time, and most certainly it has benefited us as years have 

gone on.

175
176
177
That was your first experience working with General 

Fogelman, who later hired you to be the Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force. What went through your 

mind when he told you the news?

Well, I didn’t even really hear what he said at first to tell you the 

truth. It was a Sunday, and we were expecting all the Chiefs and their 

spouses from Air Mobility Command to come to our house for a big 

barbecue on Monday night. So, my wife was working feverishly to make 

sure we were ready, because we were expecting about 80 guests. We were 

going to have a conference and entertain them all week long, so you want 

to put your best foot forward.

This was also the day I was in the headquarters because we were 

ready to send a military force into Haiti.3

 Eventually, President [Jimmy] 

Carter convinced them to do this peacefully. I had my two numbered Air 

Force Chiefs with me at the time; so, I said, “Hey let’s go over to the house 

because the ladies are over there. We’ll have dinner tonight and be ready 

for all our guests tomorrow and just relax a little bit.” I was going down the 

elevator and was on the first floor when one of the elite guardsmen said, 

“Hey Chief, General Fogleman needs to see you.” I asked the guys if they 

wanted to come up, but they decided to just stay down there and hang out.

General Fogelman had some family members that had visited 

him a month before, and one of them had made a little flag, which was a 

bull with a circle around it and a line through the middle—no BS is what it 

was all about. He gave me that and said a couple of his family and friends 

wanted me to have it for being such a great host when they were there. 

So, I said, “Okay, thank you, sir.” Then he said, “Oh by the way, you’ve 

been selected as the 11th Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force.” And I 

said, “Okay, thank you, sir.” I just walked out of his office, went into the 

elevator, and when I was half way down, I thought, “Oh, my word, what 

did he just say?” So, I went back up, confirmed it was the truth, and he 

said, “Yup, you have to be there in two weeks.”

So, I went back down the elevator. The chiefs asked what the general 

had to say, and I said, “Well, I’ll tell you a little bit later.” So, I went home 

and told my wife first. She was happy and gave me a hug, and she said “So, 

two weeks?”

So, we had a conference for one week. We were literally waving 

goodbye to everybody Friday afternoon following the conference and then 

were home pulling pictures off the wall and packing stuff up because the 

van was going to arrive the following Wednesday to come get our stuff. We 

had three days and then drove from Scott AFB, Illinois, to Washington, 

DC, Friday morning.

When you became the Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force you had a lot on your plate and a lot to lead 

the Air Force through. One of them was the shift to 

TRICARE from the previous system, which brought a lot 

of uncertainty, frustration, and concern. What do you 

recall about the primary concerns Airmen had?

Well, again, it was change. Bases were closing, and in a lot of cases, 

hospitals were closing. We only had so many people we could keep in the 

force, and as valuable as the medical crews were to us, we had to keep the 

majority of the force in war-fighting positions because we were a deployed 

force. We needed something to fill in the gap, and I think it has turned out 

to be an incredible success.

The bigger thing was being visible and communicating. I think a 

sign of leadership is facing the crowds when there is something controversial 

going on. I can remember being in every movie theater imaginable, never 

watching a show, but giving presentations for people about TRICARE. It 

wasn’t just active duty; it was retired people as well who had become used 

to the idea of going to the base hospital and getting care on a standby basis. 

Of course we were going from CHAMPUS [Civilian Health and Medical 

Program of the Uniformed Services]. There were questions on deductibles. 

How do I do this? How do I enroll? Just a lot of confusion. I give a lot of 

thanks to our incredible administrative people and the docs and all the 

med techs who were able to explain the process. Not only did they provide 

great medical care when they could, they also provided an explanation of 

the transition.

The other change that came from this was for many of our tenured 

people. When they reached age 65, they were converted to Medicare. 

There are different payments involved in that; so, after TRICARE came 

TRICARE for Life, because everyone thought it was an earned benefit that 

had been promised. There was never anything in writing, but I can tell you 

that everyone was promised that as a benefit. So, we were able to make that 

change and relieve a lot of anxiety for people. We just coached them through 

the process and made sure they were armed with as much information as 

they needed.

178
Retirement became a hot topic during your tenure as 

well. There were conversations to change it to a High 

One, and you played a role to keep what we had. Can 

you expand on that?

Well, first of all, this is kind of a theoretical thing, but when 

anybody gives you a contract or there is an agreement, if someone is trying 

to change it, it’s typically never good for the people signing the contract. 

Just as a general rule of thumb.

Military retirement is an important part of why a person serves 

and takes less salary to do what they do. When we were a garrison force 

it didn’t sound so hard, but when you’re a deployed force and you’re 

away from your family, you’re in harm’s way much more, and many 

things impact your quality of life. A retirement is a pretty important 

thing. It is not just about the repayment for the great service that people 

give, it’s also about finding the right people to give that service for the 

United States of America. When you can do that and people stay in and 

receive a reasonable retirement for what they have done, they come back 

to America, they come back to the community. When we talked earlier 

about community involvement on the base, they come back and make a 

difference in their communities across America. So, if you’re changing 

the retirement system, or if you’re taking away the benefit, fewer people 

are going to want to come in. More importantly, fewer of the right people 

are going to want to stay in.

I find those two topics interesting because they 

always seem to be coming up. They’re coming up again 

now as well. 

I think that it is just a matter of budgetary concerns. Sometimes 

people are just looking at the budget and trying to make cuts. This is the 

message I would give to everybody, and I hope they get a chance to hear it: 

If you thought it was such a good deal, why didn’t you do it?

In times of war, when the war is right there facing America and the 

challenges are there, nobody talks about taking away a benefit. It is when 

the wars are over, or the perceived wars are over, that everyone wants to 

take back money. There is not one military person who I think wouldn’t 

sacrifice some salary or some retirement benefits, but, if they’re going to 

do it, every other American has to do it as well. It can’t be placed on the 

shoulders of those who protect and give freedom—it just can’t be that way.

Earlier you were talking about Tin City and how that 

experience influenced your perspective on how Airmen 

deserve to live. You pushed heavily for the one-plusone dorm concept. Why was that such an 

important push?

It all focused back to the same thing. If you’re going to have a smaller 

force, you’re going to have fewer people doing more with less. Everybody 

in Washington, DC, said, “Chief, don’t say that word . . . doing more with 

less.” I said, “Okay, tell me that it isn’t that way.” It was politically incorrect, 

but that’s exactly what we were doing. We’re asking our people to do much, 

much more—extend their days, work harder, deploy, and separate from their 

family. The thought process was, you should want to do it for less because 

you love your country.

There is always that back and forth that applies to everybody. It 

applies from the president on down—every elected political leader. I don’t 

see them taking less for love of their country, and oh, by the way, they can 

quit on Friday if they want and walk away. So, when you talk about all of 

those types of things, the one-plus-one dorm was about who comes in and 

what is attractive to them.

When I came in, I shared a room with three other people. I just 

thought that was the way it was because that was the barracks. I had to accept 

that, but I hated it. I don’t know of anybody who liked that at all. Eventually, 

it went down to two people, and only because the Air Force got smaller, but 

it was still a shared room with a gang latrine. It was just totally unacceptable. 

You don’t attract quality people with those types of things.

The funny thing was, at the time we were married; I had two 

daughters. By government regulations, they were allowed to have a separate 

bedroom. So, why can’t people who serve have a separate bedroom? I spent 

a lot of time in the extra room downstairs in the Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force House at Andrews AFB [Maryland]. We moved stuff around, and 

hung Post-Its all over—I fell in love with Post-Its. We developed a dormitory 

occupancy standard and, as a result of that, put together a good plan to 

send forward to the secretary of defense for approval, which he declined to 

do at first.

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What was his reasoning?

He was the secretary of defense, a great guy, Dr. Bill Perry. The 

Army and the Marine Corps wanted nothing to do with it, neither did the 

Navy at first, but I was able to work with my Navy counterpart and support 

him on basic allowance for quarters for deployed sailors. You learned to 

collaborate a little bit and work together.

So I asked the secretary of defense one day, “Dr. Perry, we 

interview Airmen all the time. We do all of these surveys; we spend 

millions of dollars on surveys. I just want you to do a favor for me.” He 

said, “Sure, David.” I said, “Let’s just tell the people of the Air Force 

and all the services that we’re not going to ask them what they want 

anymore. We’re not going to waste money on surveys, and we’re never 

going to have a one-plus-one dorm standard. If you do that for me, I’d 

appreciate that.”

He looked at me a little quizzically and wondered why I would 

say that, but it was the truth. We ask Airmen what they want; we do 

these surveys when we have no intention of ever giving it to them. That’s 

ridiculous. So, just a few days later, the civil engineering folks who had 

been working with me on the program said, “Guess what? Come on down.” 

Dr. Perry had signed the one-plus-one occupancy standard in spite of the 

objections from the Army and the Marine Corps representatives. I had the 

Navy guys on my side, and what comes with the Navy comes with the Coast 

Guard; so, it was three against two.

What was the response from Airmen when they 

heard the news?

I was pretty excited about that. I looked at demographics of the Air 

Force, and you could see trends that were happening in our dormitories. 

One out of every five recruits was a female coming into the dorm, and 

there was a trend that young men and women were getting married for the 

sole purpose of moving out of the dorm. Sometimes those things didn’t 

end happily. So, I think we created a better environment and really made 

a dorm feel like a dorm. Part of that was to put a kitchen in between. A 

kitchen is neutral space. It’s what the people wanted and indicated in their 

survey by an overwhelming margin. So, why not give it to them? I think 

that would be a clear message to everybody that says leaderships listens 

to you. We spend money on these surveys. Now we’re ready to make a 

commitment for you.

You were the first Chief Master Sergeant of the Air 

Force to begin the shift in basic training to focus on 

an expeditionary mind-set. Why did you make 

that shift?

We were teaching a lot of stuff that really didn’t have an impact. 

When we revisited our basic training, we made two significant changes. 

We took away some of the training we thought was wasteful, that was 

repeated when they got to tech school or their first duty station. We were 

looking at some of the statistics on our lost ratios for people, and we were 

losing about nine percent of our people that would come into the Air Force 

simply because they had problems with some type of abuse, whether it was 

spousal abuse, child abuse, alcohol abuse, or they couldn’t manage their 

budget correctly. So we changed some of our classes to life skill classes 

to teach people how to manage their life. You know, like me, I was 17 

years old, a lot of people aren’t going to get it right away. So, that was one 

thing we did.

The other thing was that, although we were preaching the benefits of 

the Air Force, we had to appreciate the responsibility and the commitment 

that people make when they take an oath of enlistment. When you take that 

oath, you think about what you’re doing. You’re really saying you’ll give 

your life for your country. I think we needed to put a greater focus on that, 

to get us moving toward that mind-set so people wouldn’t lose it as they left 

basic training and went on in their career.

I think it was the right thing to do because of the changes we made. 

You look at 1989 and how the world changed when the Berlin Wall came 

down, and then subsequent events that tipped off right away. The Berlin 

Wall came down, and we had an outbreak of conflict that started in Bosnia 

right away. We were a deployed force, and people needed to understand 

that mentality. Basic training was a big part of that.

Toward the end of your tenure, you experienced one of 

the most tragic events in our history—the bombing of 

the Khobar Towers. What do you remember 

about that time?

I remember that pretty vividly. It was one day that my late wife 

Barbara was not at the house. She was down in Atlanta, Georgia, with my 

daughter Jessica, trying to help her prepare for her wedding. So, she was 

away, and I was out in the yard doing what I like to do. I like to cut my own 

grass, and so, I was home cutting my grass in the backyard.

My neighbor, who was the Chief of the Air National Guard, came 

down and tapped me on the shoulder and said, “You need to call the 

command post.” So, I called command post at Andrews AFB, and they told 

me what happened. They connected me with Dr. Perry’s assistant, Major 

General [Paul J.] Kern—he was an Army general officer—and he told me that 

Dr. Perry wanted to speak with me. He wanted to organize a trip to Khobar 

Towers as quickly as possible. I said we’ll gladly do that. I checked in with 

General Fogleman the next day, and then myself and my counterparts from 

the other services all left and ended up going down to Khobar Towers.

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The commander there was Brig Gen Terry Schwalier, an incredible 

leader and just a great guy. We went and got a survey of everything. I was 

ahead of General Fogleman, so I called him over the secure phone. I told 

him what to bring and who to come with. I told him to bring the JAG 

[judge advocate general], and he asked, “Why should I bring the JAG?” I 

said, “You can’t believe the incredible job the young JAG corps is doing 

here helping people with money and recovery.” There were 19 people 

killed and a couple hundred wounded in that whole event, and it was really 

something else.

Dr. Perry met with King Fahd [bin Abdulaziz Al Saud] and talked 

to him a little bit. We flew to Sigonella, Italy, and jumped on the COD 

[carrier onboard delivery], which is the plane that lands on the carrier 

deck. We landed on the USS George Washington and spent two days 

steaming down the Mediterranean. Then we jumped off and had a dinner 

in the evening with the Italian defense ministry; then, I flew nonstop back 

from Rome, Italy, to LaGuardia Airport in New York. My public affairs 

guy, Mike Brown, met me there, and we flew to Comiskey Park [Chicago, 

Illinois] to throw out the first pitch on the Fourth of July.

They did an interview, and normally you do interviews where it’s 

face-to-face or there may be a camera and the interviewer is right there, 

but it was a remote interview that I was doing. I thought it would be one 

or two TV stations, but there were dozens—and they were all asking about 

Khobar Towers. Before the game started, we enlisted about 180 people in 

the infield grass; so, it was a really cool thing that the owner of the White 

Sox did for us.

I remember all of that very, very vividly. People seemed to have 

more of a focus on you and were looking at you a little differently than 

perhaps in the past.

During your tenure, what do you remember most 

about the Airmen?

I think really their resiliency. It just never seemed to matter. 

Whatever the challenge was, the resources they lacked, or the work 

schedule they faced, they just never got down. They always kept their 

head up, and they did it with such an incredible level of expertise and 

excellence—just absolutely spectacular. They never failed. They didn’t 

want to be separated from their family; you could see that. Most people 

think service members love being deployed, but that’s not the truth. Maybe 

the first time, but that wears off pretty quick. When they get there, they 

just go, “Okay, this is what we have to do,” and they execute flawlessly.

Today we have a new generation of Airmen doing 

equally impressive things. When you look at the Air 

Force today and the Airmen serving today, and you had 

to say something about them but you had to start the 

sentence with “I believe,” what would you say?

I believe our country is in great hands.

Great, I like that. Is there anything you’d like to add?

You know, I think about our time in the Air Force and some of 

things we did. Sometimes we hit on some big ticket items, which we talked 

about, but what I’m most proud of, really, is the onesies and twosies I could 

help with here and there. There are hundreds and hundreds of stories where 

an Airman had a problem with this or an NCO had a problem with that, and 

we were able to use our office and the staff of the Pentagon to help people 

out and to do what is right.

181
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Eric W. Benken

November 5, 1996 - July 30, 1999

At the age of 18, Eric W. Benken 

felt quite literally out of options. He was 

born on 20 August 1951 and grew up in 

Norwood, Ohio, just north of Cincinnati. 

After high school, he moved to Houston, 

Texas, with his family, but he found it 

difficult to find a steady job. In 1969 

most employers refrained from hiring the 

young men who were likely to be drafted 

into the Army at age 19. After working 

in low-paying jobs for nearly a year, he 

decided to pursue a different option and 

enlisted in the US Air Force.

As a young Airman, Benken 

transferred to Taiwan and deployed to 

Vietnam. He experienced the lack of 

standards during the draft era, and learned 

about the importance of leadership and 

the critical role of the first sergeant. He 

served in Texas, Florida, Arizona, and 

Korea during his early career, and later 

served in Belgium at the North Atlantic 

Treaty Organization’s (NATO) Supreme 

Headquarters Allied Powers Europe 

(SHAPE) headquarters and in Germany 

as the US Air Force in Europe (USAFE) 

senior enlisted advisor during the midnineties, when the Air Force was heavily 

involved in peacekeeping missions 

following the fall of the Berlin Wall and 

the breakup of the Soviet Union. 

Gen Ronald R. Fogleman 

selected Benken to serve as the 12th 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

(CMSAF) in November 1996. During his 

tenure, Benken focused on the continued 

transition to an expeditionary air force, the 

professional development of the enlisted 

force, and the need to strengthen the 

culture and spirit of Airmen. Following 

a number of mishaps, he and General 

Fogleman, along with Secretary of the Air 

Force Sheila Widnall, announced the Air 

Force Core Values and introduced the 

Little Blue Book, a move that solidified 

core values and moved the force further 

along its path toward the professional 

force of today.

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Benken sat down for an interview in August 2015 to reflect on 

his career in the Air Force. During the interview, he spoke about his 

first supervisor, a female Airman, and how that shaped his perspective 

on women in the service. He also spoke about the mishaps that drove Air 

Force leadership to introduce the Core Values, and the impetus behind 

changing the title of senior enlisted advisor to command chief master 

sergeant. The following are edited excerpts from the conversation.

Alright Chief, you voluntarily joined the Air Force 

during the Vietnam War. At that time the military 

wasn’t necessarily popular; so, what made you decide 

to enlist?

It was 1970. I graduated from Norwood High School [Norwood, 

Ohio] in 1969. Prior to my graduation, my family had moved to Houston, 

Texas, where my parents were going to start a business; so, I lived with 

my grandmother while I finished school. After graduation, I felt obligated 

to join my family in Houston—besides, I really didn’t have anywhere else 

to go. I found it very difficult to get a job because I would be draft eligible 

when I turned 19. Employers did not want to hire someone, spend money 

training them, only to have the Army take them away. There was no college 

money—as a matter of fact, going to college was never discussed in my 

family. Norwood, Ohio, was an industrial-based city, and it was expected 

that you would replace your father on an assembly line at a factory. So, 

I wound up working in a car dealership. I was washing cars, delivering 

cars; and with a lot of overtime, I was probably making about $40 or $50 

a week.

One day my mother picked me up from work in my old ’62 Chevy. 

It was a very hot day in Houston, and I had been sweltering in front of 

an incinerator all day burning trash. As we were making our way through 

downtown Houston, we became stuck in a traffic jam. I looked out the 

car window at the federal building. There was a recruiting poster that 

said, “Join the Air Force!” I told my mother, “I think I found a way out 

of Houston, Texas.” I said, “I’ll take the bus home.” I got out of the 

car and walked in, went up to the recruiter, and said, “I want to get out 

of Houston, Texas.” He said, “I can make that happen.” About three 

months later, I was on my way to Lackland AFB [Texas] and became an 

Airman basic.

What did your mom think? Was she supportive 

of the decision?

Oh, yeah. Back then your mom and dad felt they had an obligation 

to care and be responsible for you until you were 18 years old. After 

that, it was, “Okay, you can leave the nest now; it’s time to go.” She was 

very thrilled for me. I came from a very patriotic, blue-collar family. As I 

previously alluded to, my dad was a factory worker. My parents strongly 

supported the troops and the Vietnam War. I was kind of far right when 

it came to politics, especially when it came to the war and supporting our 

troops; so, my parents saw joining the Air Force as a natural fit for me. To 

this day, I have zero regard for hippie war protestors, pacifists, and draft 

dodgers. To me, they take everything this nation has to offer and give nothing 

in return. And again, it was a way to get me out of the house and away from the 

dinner table.

Good. So, you went through basic training, head to your 

first duty station, and one of your first supervisors 

was a female Airman. In today’s Air Force that is, 

of course, normal, but back then it was a little bit 

different. What did you learn from that experience?

Well, it was kind of ironic. Remember, I joined the Air Force to get out 

of Houston, Texas. Following basic training, I was placed in casual control, 

awaiting orders. Finally, they arrive, and my first assignment was Ellington 

AFB [Texas]. I asked a buddy of mine where Ellington might be, and he 

said, “Houston, Texas.” I couldn’t believe it—I was about to be stationed 25 

miles from my front door. There were hundreds of bases all over the world, 

and I get one from Houston. My Air Force specialty code [AFSC] would be 

702X0–administrative specialist. I was very happy to be in administration. 

My dad had made me take a typing course while in high school—against 

my druthers—and it would help me immensely in getting started in 

my new career.

Anyway, I showed up at Ellington AFB as a direct duty assignee, 

without benefit of going to technical school. I was very naïve, saluting and 

reporting to everyone in uniform. I was chewed out by the cop at the gate 

for saluting him and told to report to the orderly room and sign in. There 

was no sponsorship program, no family support center, etc. You were on 

your own. I showed up at the orderly room and reported in to SSgt Rudy 

Medellin. Again, I was informed that enlisted Airmen do not salute other 

enlisted Airmen and that formally reporting in was not a requirement. Rudy 

began typing away on a manual typewriter. He prepared my chow hall meal 

card pass and my liberty pass, which allowed me to go no more than 50 

miles from the base without being on official leave. When he finished, he 

said, “Look behind me. Do you see that guy back there?” All I could see 

was a thick hairy arm and cigarette smoke rolling up. I said, “Yes, sir.” SSgt 

Medellin said, “Well, let me tell you something. That’s the first sergeant. 

You never want to see him. You never want to see your first sergeant. If 

you do, it’s because you screwed up. You did something wrong. You didn’t 

read the detail roster; you missed an appointment. You never want to see the 

first sergeant.”

I was at Ellington AFB for nine months before I went overseas, and I 

never saw the first sergeant. I never forgot that encounter or that advice, and 

it would forever influence my expectations for first sergeants in the future.

SSgt Medellin also told me, “Your supervisor is MSgt Elizabeth 

Quiatkowski. I responded with, “Did you say Elizabeth?” “Yep, her name 

is Elizabeth.”

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You have to realize that at that time in our Air Force, women were 

kind of a rare commodity. They represented a very small percentage of 

Airmen serving. When I went through basic training, they referred to 

sister flights, but we rarely saw female trainees and only when they were 

marching. So, to hear that my first supervisor was going to be a female was 

a bit of a shock. I was a little apprehensive and took a lot of kidding from 

my fellow Airmen in the barracks. As it turned out, she was absolutely one 

of the best supervisors and mentors anyone could ever have. We were 

still a draft force and bringing in a lot of people who didn’t want to serve. 

They hated the Vietnam War; they were anarchists and dope addicts. 

MSgt Quiatkowski took me under her wing and made sure I didn’t hang 

around with the wrong people. I was an impressionable 18-year-old, and 

she knew it. She insisted that I maintain my standards—the same standards 

I had learned in basic training. She told me when I needed a haircut, 

corrected any uniform deviations, and monitored my time at the Airman’s 

Club. She would allocate my time around the base, making sure I received 

on-the-job training that coincided with my career development course 

book work. She gave me feedback at the end of every single day. She was 

tough as nails. She could curse like a sailor if she wanted to, but it was all 

in the context of getting her point across. One day, I heard a commotion 

and looked through the crack of the door to the commander’s office. She 

was standing in front of his desk. All of a sudden, she leaned over and was 

pounding the desk with her fist. She was letting him know exactly how she 

felt about something, and her passion was very obvious. I just assumed it 

had to do with taking care of the troops—because that’s what she did.

Before I left for overseas, she completed my Airman Performance 

Report [APR]. Her final comment on the report said something to the 

effect—“The Air Force might consider retaining Airman Benken.” 

Looking back I suppose she was marginally in my corner when it came 

to retention. Anyway, she was an awesome supervisor, and she set 

me on the path for any success I would have in the future. She lives in 

San Antonio, Texas.

Oh wow, fantastic. 

Absolutely, I called her a year or so after I retired on a whim and 

told her who I was. She said she kind of remembered me, but she really 

didn’t. She said, “Well next time I go over to Wilford Hall, I’ll look at all 

the pictures of the former CMSAFs. Then I’ll know who you are.”

As the role of women expanded in our Air Force, did 

that experience give you a positive outlook? 

Absolutely. Of course, I always appreciated the strength of 

women—my mother had a lot to do with that. She was a very strong person. 

My mother left school in the ninth grade. She had lost her father when she 

was only six or seven years old, and she began supporting my grandmother 

and her younger sister when she was very young. She worked continuously 

while we were growing up and overcame her lack of education in a variety 

of roles and jobs. She left no doubt in my mind—before I ever joined the 

service—that women could do anything men could do. So, that was kind of a 

given, but Elizabeth certainly reinforced that idea.

When I entered the Air Force in 1970, women served in a small 

number of career fields—typically administration, personnel, supply, 

medical, etc. We did not have integrated training. As a matter of fact, when 

men went to the rifle range, women went to a class to learn how to properly 

wear makeup. They did not get the opportunity to fire the weapon. They 

were referred as “WAFs,” representative of the “Women’s Air Force.” 

If there were enough women on a base to warrant it, they had their own 

WAF Squadron with a WAF Squadron commander. So in essence, they 

reported to two commanders—their operational squadron commander, and 

for administrative purposes, to the WAF Squadron commander. It wasn’t 

until 1973, I believe, that women were accepted into nontraditional roles 

and became vehicle mechanics, aircraft maintainers, etc. Basic training was 

becoming gender integrated. And rightfully so—as more and more women 

came into the Air Force, it became intuitively obvious to Air Force leadership 

they could do anything a man could do and there should be no glass ceiling. 

We broadened the aperture of what they could do—to the point where very 

quickly they could serve in 99 percent of all of our career fields. The only 

exceptions would be in special operations—combat control, pararescue, and 

joint terminal attack.

In 1995 there was an incident at Aberdeen Army Proving Ground 

where several trainees were raped by a training instructor, and it precipitated 

an attempt by some in Congress to overhaul our training methodology. 

They fundamentally wanted us to return to the separation of genders at basic 

training—in other words, train women and men at separate locations on the 

base. It was a return to preintegration days and absolutely the wrong thing 

to do for our Air Force.

Some congressmen who had never served in the military made this 

their quest. There were two commissions formed, with the expectation that 

the services would stop gender integrated training. When they didn’t get 

what they wanted with the first commission, they formed another to get 

what they wanted. There was a lot of pressure on them from civilian female 

activists and the Christian Coalition, who, in my mind, just felt that women 

should not be serving in the military at all. They very much objected to 

women fulfilling any kind of combat role. Of course, this was at a time when 

the Air Force was opening security forces and other combat-related career 

paths to women, along with them flying combat aircraft. 

My boss, Gen Mike Ryan, told me this was my issue to fight and that 

he fully supported me. I had multiple conversations with House and Senate 

members—one of them resulting in an exchange of four letter words in the 

basement of the Pentagon. I wrote several editorial rebuttals and an op-ed 

piece that appeared in the Washington Times. I was accused by one member 

of the House of “lobbying Congress,” which is against the law. Our Air 

Force legislative liaison office rebutted the charge, saying I was “passionate 

about the issue, and the Air Force fully supported my position.”

184
I wrote an especially terse letter to a senator (who never served) 

that was so edgy General Ryan told me to send it from my office without 

clearing it through the legislative liaison. I recall him wincing as he read 

the content. I very much appreciated his support. The senator did write 

me back, and obviously did not agree with my position—to put it mildly. 

In the end, my service counterparts prevailed, and our services 

were allowed to continue training within our respective services as we 

saw fit. They were going to set women back in our military, and that was 

absolutely wrong. We fought that very hard. 

I’m very proud to be able to look at the evolution of women in 

the military and how they serve today. We take the way we train and 

how women serve in our military for granted—it certainly wasn’t always 

that way.

That’s good perspective. Shortly after you arrived at 

your first assignment, you went to Taiwan and then 

Vietnam. In the past you’ve mentioned that wasn’t the 

best experience. Can you expand on why?

I left Ellington AFB and went PCS [permanent change of station] 

to Ching Chuan Kang (CCK) AB, Taiwan, for a 15-month tour. I would 

be assigned to the 314th Tactical Airlift Wing. It was a C-130 outfit 

supporting the airlift requirements and missions in Vietnam, which was 

still a very active place. By now I was 19 years old. My departure date was 

New Year’s Eve of 1970.

My port call would take me through McChord AFB, Washington. 

I recall standing around in the lobby of the air terminal, waiting for my 

flight. The glass door to the flight line opened up, and several US Army 

Soldiers entered and came toward me. They were still in their jungle 

fatigues and combat boots. I remember them rushing past me heading 

toward the latrine. Several minutes went by, and they came out—wearing 

civilian clothes. Later, I went into the latrine and noticed they had stuffed 

all of their uniforms into a trash can.

Our service members were not welcomed home the way they 

are today—it was a very sad moment for me and one I could not fully 

comprehend at the time. It was a sad commentary on our society. Decades 

later, our nation would attempt to rectify the way our service members 

were treated during that time.

When I arrived at CCK, I once again reported to the orderly 

room, where I would be issued my two sheets, my blanket, and a pillow 

(without a pillow case). I never met the commander or the first sergeant.

Somebody told me I was going to be in Quonset hut number 

217.1

 It was January and very cold, with a strong northerly wind. When 

I arrived at my new living quarters, I noticed the actuator to the door was 

broken and it was swinging wildly. The cold wind was blowing through the 

hut. I also noticed there was no order to the open-bay arrangement. Airmen 

had pulled their bunks and lockers into semicircles, partitioning themselves 

off in some sort of attempt at privacy. Then a little further down the Quonset 

hut, you had another situation like that.

There wasn’t any discipline like we had in basic training. I couldn’t 

figure out where I was supposed to go. Fortunately, somebody said, “There’s 

an empty bunk over here. So you can come into this circle.” It was very 

obvious to me that nobody was checking on us—there were no inspections 

and no adult supervision. During my entire tenure, no senior leader came 

to our living quarters, and I quickly found out why. Keep in mind, I’m 19 

years old, and I’m dealing with people that never should have been in the 

military. They were drafted. They were unhappy. We had terrible race 

relations at the time. It was a carryover from all of the social machinations 

we were going through during the ’60s: all of the drugs, sex, rock and roll, 

and all that. The racial attitudes and elements were infused into that as well. 

There were fights—constant fights. The smell of marijuana would permeate 

the hut. There were awful things happening, and I couldn’t understand why 

no one would fix it. Again, I would go my entire tour and never meet my first 

sergeant or commander. 

In August, I deployed to Tan Son Nhut AB, South Vietnam. Again, I 

never met my first sergeant or commander. We lived in a two-story, wooden 

hooch with sand bags and concrete barriers. We had a bunk, locker, and 

mosquito net. I was assigned to Det 1 834 Air Division and worked for the 

deputy commander for maintenance. My brief tenure there had me guarding 

weapons on a flatbed truck while they were transferred to an Army location. I 

had been in-country for a couple of days and was placed on a detail guarding 

weapons with no training and no earthly idea what I would do if the truck 

was attacked during the ride to the off-base location. A 19-year-old with 

a loaded M-16 and no orientation or training—a recipe for disaster. But I 

survived. I found the environment to be even worse than Taiwan. Drug use 

was prolific, with a lot of it being exported on C-130s back to Taiwan and 

other countries in the theatre.

So prolific that Chiang Kai-shek, who was the premier of Taiwan, 

basically said, “Okay I’ve had enough of this!” He fenced off our flight line 

and posted his own guards at the entry points. This was the environment 

we were in, and it was kind of like being in a prison. It became so bad that 

Col Andrew P. Iosue (who eventually became a four-star) was sent there 

purposefully to become our wing commander and clean it up. He found 

people that had a militant attitude, both black and white, put them on 

airplanes, and sent them back to the States.

So, you can imagine, when people say to me, “We need to bring 

the draft back.” I’m going, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I never want 

to see the day when we have draftees in our military. Everyone should be a 

volunteer. That is why we are the most respected and feared military on the 

planet—because people want to be there and want to serve. No more hippies 

and derelicts.

185
How did that experience shape your career and your 

leadership perspective?

Well, it certainly shaped my perspective of the first sergeant and 

what they should be. But to put things into perspective, remember that 

first sergeants at the time were dealing with a lot of bad people. Their 

primary job was to administratively discharge the screwups. They typically 

had five or six people in the queue to receive an Article 15 or a discharge. 

That’s what a first sergeant was basically doing. It was all about discipline. 

They would select first sergeants by getting the biggest, meanest, ugliest 

guy they could in the squadron. They put a diamond on their sleeve above 

their stripe. They might be a staff sergeant or a technical sergeant—there 

was no requirement to be a senior noncommissioned officer.

As I came through the ranks, I watched how first sergeants dealt 

with things, and I kept an eye on their career field. When we became a 

volunteer force, the role of the first sergeant began to evolve to where we 

are today. No longer spending an inordinate amount of time on disciplinary 

actions, they can commit themselves to taking care of their Airmen 

and their families. They can now focus on quality of life concerns and 

professional development.

When I became the CMSAF, I was fundamentally the functional 

manager for first sergeants, and I took their role very seriously. I would 

often remind them, “No Airman deserves to live in a dormitory where 

inmates run the asylum. You need to visit your dorm at two o’clock in 

the morning on a weekend and find out who has their music cranked up 

and disturbing their teammates. Seek out the ‘disrupters.’ You need to 

see if there’s that smell of marijuana. Then you need to discipline them.” 

I reminded first sergeants that they owned the dormitory. The job of the 

dormitory manager is to make sure everyone has their supplies. It’s the 

job of the first sergeant to enforce the discipline and make sure the rooms 

are kept clean and neat to avoid insect and vermin infestations. Some 

first sergeants believe in a hands-off approach. They will say, “Well, 

they deserve to live without a mom and dad watching them all the time.” 

That approach seldom works. It is a communal living environment, and 

it’s critical the living and cleanliness standards be very high. You have 

to inspect the rooms to make sure everybody has a safe, quiet place to 

live. I always liked the ABC approach. If you earn an “A” room, you get 

inspected once a month. You earn a “B” room, and you get inspected 

every two weeks. You get a “C” room, and you get inspected daily until 

you bring it up to an acceptable standard. And the knuckleheads who 

can’t keep their stereo turned down, you get your stuff locked up until 

you learn how to not disturb your teammates.

So my experience in my formative Airman years in Taiwan and 

Vietnam made a difference in how I view the world—especially first 

sergeants. In retrospect, I know the leadership in Taiwan and Vietnam 

didn’t come to visit our barracks because they were afraid. It was like going 

inside San Quentin.2

You eventually left Vietnam. The last combat troops 

left 29 March 1973, and a few months prior, the draft 

ended.3 What do you recall about that transition and 

that culture shift?

Our Vietnam prisoners of war [POW] were released in 1973 and 

went through a yearlong repatriation process before entering back into 

the Air Force. I was a young staff sergeant at Bergstrom AFB in Austin, 

Texas, assigned to the 67th Tactical Reconnaissance Wing. One day I was 

introduced to my new boss, Col George Hall, who had been shot down as 

a young captain and spent nearly eight years in captivity. Also assigned to 

Bergstrom were other POWs I would get to know, including Col Terry 

Uyeyama, Col Scotty Morgan, Col John Stavast, Col Walt Stischer, and 

Lt Col Al Myer. I could never do justice in describing the impact they had 

on me. All of them had spent five or more years as captives of the North 

Vietnamese. They were brutally tortured, spent years in isolation and 

deprived of decent food and shelter. I listened intently to their stories. In 

the end, I would never complain about where I slept or what I had to eat 

ever again. They are heroes—they were not given the welcome home they 

deserved. And yes, I am NOT a fan of Jane Fonda and a few others from 

that era.

I also cannot say enough about the end of the draft and the allvolunteer force. Having all volunteers allowed us to focus on becoming 

“professional Airmen” and greatly improving our readiness and 

combat capabilities.

Did you find that Airmen struggled to transition to 

an in-garrison force? If you relate it to where we 

are today—we have a lot of Airmen who are used to 

deploying and fighting; that’s all they know. Then you 

start to transition out of that into a garrison force. 

Did you find that was a difficult transition for them?

We had three periods that were very distinct for me during my 

tenure.4 We went through the ’70s, which of course was the Vietnam War. 

When I came in, our force was probably at 850,000.5 We were putting 

somewhere between 70,000 and 80,000 troops a year through basic 

training. Now it’s down to 30,000 or so. So we went through the era of 

the draft. Then we started transitioning to the volunteer force. In the late 

’70s, under the Pres. Jimmy Carter administration, we wound up with what 

would be called a “hollow force.”6

 We weren’t funded properly. We didn’t 

have the money to do training. The administration’s focus was not on the 

military; it was on social and economic issues.

186
Then in the ’80s, when Pres. Ronald Reagan came on board, 

very generous pay raises and other funding became much better. It was 

a complete 180 turnaround compared to what we had endured under 

Carter. Reagan’s idea was to build a military that was so strong it would 

cause the Russians to fold—to collapse internally because they couldn’t 

keep up. They would have to spend so much money to keep up with us 

militarily that they would collapse. And it worked. So during the ’80s, we 

had all the people we needed. We had too many people to be honest with 

you. We had the assistant to the assistant NCOIC [noncommissioned 

officer in change]. Sometimes you would work three or four days a week. 

Weekends were yours. We were seldom deploying, and even those 

deployments affected a small number of career fields. We had a very large 

presence in Europe, with hundreds of installations. With that forward 

presence, there was little need to deploy.

Then the wall comes down in 1989, and that changed everything. 

Suddenly, we found ourselves in a draw-down mode.7 We were no 

longer absorbed with the notion we would be fighting the Soviet 

Union, and we certainly did not need that large presence of Airmen in 

Europe. So, we did a massive pull back, and eventually reduced to six 

main operating bases. Along with the large installations, we closed 

countless geographically separated units. That was huge. Stateside, 30 

percent or so of the bases closed. The drastic reductions were under the 

Pres. George H. W. Bush administration.

 

In 1991 Desert Storm and the first Gulf War kicked off. Because 

we had taken down so many infrastructures in Europe, we found ourselves 

supporting operations more and more from CONUS [continental United 

States]. Following the liberation of Kuwait, we established two no-fly 

zones in Iraq: one supported from Prince Sultan AB, in Saudi Arabia, and 

the other from Incirlik AB, Turkey.8

 We would enforce these no-fly zones 

until 2003 when Saddam Hussein was eventually taken out of the picture. 

You can imagine the number of sorties being flown for more than a decade 

of air operations and the amount of Airmen who would contribute to those 

missions. We had somewhere between 15 percent and 20 percent of our 

force deploying constantly to Saudi Arabia and other locations in the 

Middle East to support that effort. This was a big mind-set change as our 

Airmen began to deploy for 120 days, be back home for a short period of 

time, only to find themselves deploying again. It caused a lot of turmoil for 

our families.

This was new for me as well. In 1991 I was a new chief master 

sergeant and had a NATO assignment—the Supreme Headquarters Allied 

Powers Europe in Belgium. I had 73 administrators working for me at the 

time, and we were just beginning to have conversations about becoming 

a more expeditionary force. In 1993 I became the 12th Air Force senior 

enlisted advisor to Lt Gen Jim Jamerson at Davis-Monthan AFB, Arizona. 

We had 10 wings and a USSOUTHCOM [US Southern Command] 

mission, supporting counterdrug operations. The notorious Columbian 

drug kingpin Pablo Escobar had just been killed; so, it was a busy time in 

South America. Twelfth Air Force was supporting the counterdrug effort 

at locations in Columbia, Ecuador, and Peru. I would travel to visit them 

via Howard AFB in Panama. It was eye opening to visit Airmen at these 

forward deployed and very austere locations, and it was critically important 

that we support them and provide anything they might need on a moment’s 

notice. Potable drinking water was at a premium, and it was essential their 

food supply be sustained without interruption. It was also becoming readily 

apparent that deployment after deployment by some of our career fields 

was taking a toll on families and retention. By the time I became the United 

States Air Force in Europe (USAFE) senior enlisted advisor in 1994, we 

were deploying our Airmen in earnest—many of them from fighter bases like 

Spangdahlem AB, Germany, and out of bases in the UK [United Kingdom]. 

I was leading Airmen who would say, “Chief, I didn’t sign up to be in 

Saudi Arabia twice this year.” A lot of them were security forces, support 

personnel, and maintainers. It was just a small number of career fields, and 

we were abusing them. We were using them too much. The majority of the 

force was not identified as deployable; so, the same people were going time 

and time again.

At the same time, our operations tempo was increasing and we 

were becoming more expeditionary, the United States was enjoying a 

very robust economy. The “dot.com” boom was happening, among other 

things, and employment was easily obtained—especially if you were a drugfree, disciplined veteran. This gave our folks a lot of options. We became a 

recruiting pool for the private sector. We would train them, and the private 

sector would lure them away from us. The dissatisfaction with the change 

of the health care system to TRICARE and its associated growing pains, 

increased numbers of deployments, a retirement system that seemed unfair 

to those who joined after 1986, and family separation created the perfect 

story for retention issues. Spouses were saying, “Hey, look, I’m done. 

I’m tired of raising the kids by myself. You’re always over in Saudi Arabia. 

And when you come back, they give you a one-year assignment to Kunsan, 

Korea.” There was a lot of dissatisfaction.

Gen Ron Fogleman started to draw up the Expeditionary Air 

Force, and of course, that transitioned to Gen Mike Ryan who completed 

the process. Instead of 15 percent to 20 percent of our Airmen 

deploying for almost all of our force, about 95 percent to 96 percent of 

our force was now identified for deployment. They developed the Air 

Expeditionary Force concept. That would begin to shift the deployment 

responsibility tremendously.

But we also had to address a cultural shift. Those who had spent 

their entire careers in an in-garrison posture, where we never deployed, 

were fomenting a lot of the dissatisfaction. They were focused too much on 

their pay and benefits. They were losing sight of the real reason we serve 

in uniform, and it was a time to get back to basics. It was about wearing 

the uniform, the missions we do in preserving our freedom and liberty, and 

supporting others who serve.

187
Quite honestly, I got tired of talking about how much pay 

somebody was going to make on the outside. I would finally just say, 

“Obviously, you are not happy with the Air Force and want to pursue 

other options, and to that I would say, ‘Thanks for your service, and I wish 

you all the best.’” Then there was a perception that they had this massive 

erosion in benefits. Everywhere I went, I would have people tell me our 

benefits were eroding massively. When I challenged them to name me 

five benefits and five entitlements or just tell me the difference between 

a benefit and an entitlement, they just stared at me. The facts were that 

we had gained tremendously in pay, benefits, and entitlements over the 

years. But the perception became reality—and for the first time in decades, 

we were having problems with retention in all three categories—first term, 

second term, and career. And for the very first time, we had to allocate 

millions of dollars toward recruiting marketing.

So as you can see, each decade was tremendously different. The 

turmoil of the ’70s and moving from a draft force to the all-volunteer 

force; the blissful ’80s, when we had very few deployments and lots of 

resources; to the very volatile and under-resourced ’90s, when we had to 

become expeditionary.

You mentioned your NATO assignment in Belgium. That 

was in the late ’80s to early ’90s, right after the Cold 

War and into the Gulf War. You were working with 

16 different nations, the different services. What 

did that teach you about our ability to fight as a 

combined and joint force?

NATO was very interesting. I worked at SHAPE headquarters, 

Supreme Headquarters Allied Powers Europe. Some people said it really 

stood for Super Holiday at Public Expense, but it really wasn’t. NATO was 

there to fight communism, and to join together if the Russians ever came 

across the Fulda Gap with their tanks.9

 I think we worked well together. 

Every nation had a vote on how we did things. There were different 

beliefs, different ideas, different cultures, and it all came together there. 

If there was a serious issue, there would be infighting. The French would 

disagree with what the Dutch said, or the Dutch would disagree with what 

the Greeks said. The Greeks and the Turks didn’t like each other. There 

was a lot of that kind of drama, but if they ever had to coalesce to fight a 

common enemy, I am confident they would have done that very well.

It also showed me that America leads the way in NATO. The 

American contingent did the bulk of the work, along with the Brits and 

Germans. That’s just the way it is culturally. I had an interesting encounter 

with a Turkish brigadier general. I had 73 administrators, so I had Dutch, 

Greeks, Italians, Americans, British, US Army, US Navy—a cultural blend 

of different administrators and different capabilities. This Turkish general 

had a Dutch E-7 and an Italian E-9 as his administrators. Turkish generals 

did not talk to the enlisted. Their enlisted force was made up of conscripts 

who made the coffee, drove the cars, and did other mundane things. One 

day I was in my office and was having a counseling session with somebody. 

The door opened, and in walked the Turkish general. I’m thinking, “Oh, 

my gosh—this never happens.” If he saw me in the hallway, he wouldn’t 

acknowledge my presence. I’m a chief, and he still didn’t talk to me. But he 

came into my office, he looked down at the person on the chair and nodded 

for them to leave the room. The person left, and the general sat down and 

said, “Chief, I want to make you a proposition.” I said, “What proposition 

would that be, general?” He said, “I want to make a trade.” “What would 

that trade be?” “I want to trade one Dutch E-7 and one Italian E-9, for 

one US Air Force E-4.” I smiled to myself, and at the same time was flush 

with pride. That encounter was proof positive of our capabilities and how 

respected our Airmen truly are. Of course, I didn’t make the trade, because 

no one was willing to give up their Airman. Our administrators could do all 

kinds of things. We were just beginning to get computers, and our Airmen 

were just burning it up. So, here this Turkish general wanted to come down 

and make a trade—two very senior enlisted for one US Air Force E-4. Pretty 

much says it all.

Absolutely. You were there when the Berlin Wall came 

down—the end of the Cold War. You talked a little 

about the impact that had on our Air Force going into 

the ’90s. What can you say about the overall sentiment 

when the wall came down and the Cold War was over?

The possibility that we would have to fight the Russians in the Fulda 

Gap and elsewhere in Europe tank-to-tank created a very tense environment 

for all of the involved nations. It could have happened at any moment, and 

you never knew. There was a lot of tension of course, but when Reagan came 

over and told [Mikhail] Gorbachev to “tear down the wall,” it really set things 

in motion. It just happened. One day we were poised for a horrific war and 

horrific conflict all across Europe, and the next day they had sledgehammers 

and were taking down the wall. You sat back and went, “Holy cow.”

NATO was a full-up force, with all the nations contributing 

manpower. Suddenly, it seemed the reason for NATO went away. 

Without communism and the Soviet Union staring at us through the 

Berlin Wall, was there really a reason for NATO to exist? We were kneedeep in classified plans for these battles, and then it was gone. We didn’t 

have an enemy anymore. People were saying, “Why do we need NATO 

anymore? Perhaps it is time to rethink our individual contributions 

to NATO in terms of manpower and resources.” Immediately, a lot 

of the nations started saying, “I’m not going to give you 15 people 

anymore. I’m only going to give you five.” They immediately began 

to draw back on NATO personnel commitments. Had it not been for 

Saddam Hussein and the first Gulf War, I believe there would have 

been a serious effort to dismantle NATO. Saddam brought reality to 

the world situation—there are still a lot of bad guys out there, and we 

need to stick together in the fight against them.

188
As a part of that evolution, a lot of former Eastern Bloc nations 

wanted to become part of NATO. We started having peacekeeping 

discussions and created Partnership for Peace.10 Of great interest to the 

former Eastern Bloc nations was our enlisted force. They had great difficulty 

in comprehending the concept of a professional NCO corps. We invited 

them to visit the Kisling NCO Academy [Ramstein AB, Germany]—giving 

them a tour of the facility and briefings on our curriculum and teaching 

methodology. Numerous flag officers and their staffs would attend. After 

the tour and briefings, they would sit down with several of the students 

and faculty. They sat down and asked, “What do you do?” And our 

student would say something like, “Well I have a bachelor’s degree, and 

I work in finance.” They went to the next person and asked, “Well what 

do you do?” “I maintain F-16 aircraft. I have an associate’s degree, and I 

am working on my bachelor’s degree.” They would go around the room, 

getting similar responses from each of the students. I could see they were 

mesmerized at the education levels and the technical qualifications. Some 

actually thought we were lying to them. In their services, a major would be 

working maintenance, not an enlisted person. Their enlisted force would 

be primarily made up of conscripts and relegated to more menial duties. 

It was our philosophy that if we could somehow influence the culture of 

their services and plant the idea of developing a professional NCO corps—

then NATO as a whole would be much better for it. We began sending Air 

Force enlisted instructors on temporary duty to Albania, Czechoslovakia, 

and many other countries to work with their armed forces and help them 

develop a professional enlisted force.

It’s a culture thing, and it’s very difficult to replicate. It is what 

makes us who we are as an Air Force. The professional NCO corps we 

have—the enlisted force we have—is so much better than any other country 

on this planet. That’s what makes us the best.

You were the USAFE senior enlisted advisor during 

the mid-90s. You mentioned the no-fly zones, and 

there was Provide Comfort, Deny Flight, Deliberate 

Force, and other operations . . . we were very busy at 

that time. What do you remember about the impact it 

had on the Airmen?

My USAFE assignment was a very busy time for me. In my 18 

months as the USAFE senior enlisted advisor, I worked for three fourstar generals—Gen Jim Jamerson, who hired me initially and then went to 

EUCOM [European Command]; Gen Dick Hawley, who joined us from 

the Air Staff in the Pentagon would be there for roughly seven months 

before becoming the Air Combat Command commander; and Gen Mike 

Ryan, who would come to USAFE from 16th Air Force. All of them had 

a different temperament and a different philosophy. But they had one 

thing in common—they were extraordinarily concerned for the welfare 

of their Airmen and their quality of life. I’ll never forget General Hawley’s 

comment, “We do not have congressional representation in Europe—there 

is no senator or representative who has Europe as part of their constituency. 

Therefore, I will ensure they visit us and take back with them our requests 

for more money to work our infrastructure and other issues.” Europe had 

been neglected after the draw down, so there were lots of lucrative targets 

to fix. They were all concerned with making improvements, because after 

the draw down, Europe was neglected. While the Air Force was chasing 

one-plus-one dormitories, we had 30 percent of the Air Force’s gang 

latrines in Europe. I am particularly proud of our efforts in this area. We put 

together a dorm council, made up of the numbered air force senior enlisted 

advisors and myself, and chaired by the vice commander, Lt Gen Everett 

Pratt. The team developed a history on each dorm, plotted out the necessary 

improvements and cost, and then presented it to the USAFE commander. 

Within a few years, there were no more gang latrines in Europe—all were 

in the one-plus-one configuration. We were able to bring Congressional 

leadership to the theatre. We took them into the gang latrines and had 

them stand in the middle of the mess, where the mildew, the mold, and the 

infrastructure was decaying. We had them experience it firsthand; so, when 

they went back they would put a wedge of money in the budget for quality of 

life for USAFE and Europe. We started Aviano 2000 in 1995, which was 

basically a complete overhaul of the infrastructure and quality of life issues 

at Aviano AB, Italy.11 Quality of life—that was our primary focus.

In the middle of all that, President [William] Clinton decided we 

were going to stop the fighting between the Serbs and the Croats. We were 

going to stop the ethnic cleansing and all the bad stuff that was happening 

over there with [Slobodan] Milosevic.12 So the president put together 

the framework for the Bosnia Peacekeeping Mission.13 We we’re sitting 

in the Tunner Conference Room at USAFE Headquarters, and General 

Hawley was directing how the air bridge operations would work in Tuzla, 

Bosnia. We were going to build an air bridge for our airlifters, primarily 

C-17s [Globemaster III transports], to bring in tons of equipment and 

personnel to support the effort. They were going to stage out of Tuzla and 

push forward to develop a zone of separation that would consist of multiple 

checkpoints. It was going to be a massive operation in terms of airlift tonnage 

and manpower.

General Hawley went around the conference room and queried 

all his officers on how things were going to work. Then he got to me and 

said, “Chief, I’ve got my commander. I know who I’m going to send. Who’s 

going to be the first sergeant?” And I said, “Sir, I’ll have to get back with 

you on that.” He went on to explain, “Tuzla has an abandoned Russian air 

base. We’ll quarter the troops in the abandoned buildings until we can get 

the tent city built. A Red Horse unit will do that for us. Everyone will be 

armored up with a flak jacket, helmet, and they will carry a loaded M-16. 

They’ll be subsisting on MREs [meals, ready to eat] every day. It’s going to 

be in December [1995], so it’s going to be extremely cold. You’re going to 

need somebody who can take care of all those things.”

189
We had not quite developed into the expeditionary mind-set, so I 

was very concerned with finding someone qualified to lead an expeditionary 

adventure such as this. I went upstairs to my office and called all the senior 

enlisted advisors and presented them the scenario. I said, “Guys, I need a 

tough, no-nonsense first sergeant who can handle a deployment like this 

under these conditions.” CMSgt Bill Jennings at 17th Air Force called 

me back, and he said, “I’ve got a guy I’m going to send over to see you.” I 

asked, “What’s his rank?” He said, “A master sergeant.” I haltingly said, 

“Master sergeant?” Bill said, “Yeah, he’s young, but he’s good.” I asked, 

“What are his qualifications?” “He’ll tell you when he gets there.”

Shortly thereafter a young master sergeant named Tim Gaines 

showed up at my office. I skipped the formalities and immediately said, “So, 

Tim, tell me why you’re qualified to lead this deployment?” He said, “Well, 

Chief, I’m the first sergeant for 1st Combat Comm [Communications] 

outfit. We actually deploy every so often and spend a lot of time on the 

road. We’re one of the few units in the Air Force that deploy quite a bit, 

setting up communications at various locations. We live in tents. Our 

gear includes helmets and flak jackets.” I was very uneasy, but it was 

obvious I wasn’t going to get anyone else who could speak the language of 

regarding deployments.

“All right, Tim. You’re the guy. I’m going to send you in there.” 

Then I said, “The first thing I want you to do when you get to Tuzla is find 

the command sergeant major for the First Armored Division. I want you to 

stay close to him, take his mentorship, take his leadership, and use it. He 

knows how to handle troops who have weapons, and he knows about the 

explosive mines problem, etc. He’s a seasoned war veteran and an expert 

regarding this kind of environment.” His name was Jack Tilley, and he 

would eventually become the Sergeant Major of the Army.

I was extremely nervous about sending a young master sergeant 

to do this job. Seriously, I wanted to take it on myself. I told Tim that 

General Hawley and I would be down there in the next 30 days and that 

if he needed anything at all to let me know and I would be on the first 

C-130 out of Ramstein. He very confidently said, “Okay, Chief,” and he 

left my office. I had tasked him with bedding down the troops in a cold 

and hostile environment; charged him with the health and welfare of all 

the Airmen at Tuzla. That included keeping them quartered in abandoned 

buildings, keeping them fed, and keeping them motivated. He also had to 

ensure no one mishandled their weapon and kept them secure. The Army 

was going to be rolling through Tuzla in Humvees, tanks, and in the large 

M2 Bradleys. It was very possible for someone to get run over, especially 

in the dark.

So MSgt Tim Gaines headed down to Tuzla, and within days I was 

getting e-mails. I was expecting a full plate of problems and issues. Instead 

he said, “Hey, Chief, can you send me down some washers and dryers? I 

want to set up a laundromat so our Airmen can wash and dry their uniforms. 

The contractor who is supposed to do it [Brown and Root] can’t keep up 

with the demand. Also, can you send some board games—checkers, chess, 

Monopoly—that kind of stuff?”

I’m thinking, “Wait, a minute. Didn’t I send you to a combat 

zone? Shouldn’t I be getting frantic e-mails with casualty lists and other 

bad stuff?” Instead, he said, “Chief, we have things under control.” Tim 

had already established a Top III organization to help him run things. They 

were conducting reenlistment ceremonies at the flagpole. All the senior 

NCOs had bonded together under his leadership and were functioning as 

a well-oiled machine. He had made the connection with Jack Tilley, the 1st 

Armored Division command sergeant major as well. Jack was giving him tons 

of mentorship and helping him succeed. They were having reenlistments 

at the flagpole. I was very pleasantly surprised at how well our Air Force 

team was functioning—far exceeding my expectations. Everyone was pulling 

together; no one was complaining, and no one wanted to leave. It was just 

phenomenal. It was one of the proudest moments of my life.

 

I told Tim, “I’m only going to leave you there for 60 days.” Being 

part of the initial cadre, I knew he was working exceptionally long hours, 

and eventually, he would succumb to the fatigue. I also wanted to rotate as 

many first sergeants through Tuzla and other locations as possible to give 

them firsthand deployment experience. A normal rotation was 90 to 120, 

depending on the position. I brought him out after 60 days, and then I sent 

in another first sergeant, MSgt Terry Spears, who also did a magnificent 

job and built on Tim’s success. Every day it was getting better and better. 

Red Horse came in and did a tremendous job in building a tent city with 

heating and air conditioning for our Airmen. I sent in MSgt Jeff Gryczewski 

to replace Terry Spears. Jeff was a highly motivated first sergeant with a 

security forces background. He continued to build on the tremendous 

foundation that Tim and Terry had laid. Every first sergeant that worked the 

Bosnia effort made chief—with the exception of Tim who opted to retire as a 

senior master sergeant. I am extremely proud of all of them to this day. They 

were phenomenal leaders and did exactly what first sergeants should do.

The whole idea was to get that experience and capture it. I said, “I 

want trip reports; I want you to build detailed trip reports on what works and 

what doesn’t so that your successor can more easily build upon your work.” 

I took all of those reports and sent them to the First Sergeant Academy. The 

trip reports would be folded into the curriculum at the Academy, making it 

more realistic.

190
It sounds like that experience was one that 

highlighted the need for the Air Force to shift 

toward that expeditionary mind-set.

Absolutely. That was a big part of it. You could tell the difference 

between a first sergeant who knew how to deploy and one that didn’t. It 

began the warrior Airman mentality and mind-set—critical to being able to 

function in a combat environment.

The culture of the First Sergeant Academy was critical to me, and 

I wanted to institute some changes shortly after I arrived at the Pentagon. 

As timing would have it, the commandant was getting ready to depart. I had 

met a very impressive first sergeant at Andrews [AFB, Maryland] named 

Roger Ball. Roger was a recently promoted chief. He had also just moved 

to Scott AFB, Illinois, and had only been there a few months. I called him 

and said, “Roger—I need you to be the commandant at the First Sergeant 

Academy. Will you consider it?” Without hesitation, he said, “Yes.” This 

was service before self personified. He could have easily said, “Chief, I 

just moved, and it’s going to be hard on me and the family.” Instead he 

stepped up.

One thing in particular bothered me. We would select someone 

to be a first sergeant at their home station and allow them to immediately 

wear the diamond, without having completed the school. It created a 

culture of “I’m already a shirt, you can’t teach me anything” attitude. 

Chief Ball stopped that immediately—you had to earn your diamond, 

and there would be a formal graduation ceremony to recognize your 

achievement. You come to the school, you learn, and you get scrutinized 

by the Academy staff before we allow you to wear the diamond. And that 

night you graduate—it’s special and something you won’t forget.

The fact that we add the diamond in your chevron, what does 

that mean? Airmen don’t care about your AFSC or your specialty badge. 

You can take your badge off, because now you’re a first sergeant. The 

diamond means everything. When somebody looks across the room and 

they see the diamond on your sleeve, there’s an expectation. There’s an 

expectation that you set the standard, that you’re the leader, that you’re 

the one in charge of the discipline and the health and welfare of the troops. 

You can’t take that lightly. You can’t just put that diamond on without 

having completed the course and gone through the crucible of becoming 

a first sergeant. When you step across the stage and everybody claps for 

you and praises you for all the good things you’ve done to pass the school, 

it needs to be a significant emotional event for you. It needs to set the tone 

for how you’re going to behave and act as a first sergeant. I thought that 

was critical.

My early years and the lack of interaction with my first sergeants 

certainly impacted my view of the career field. I was tough on them—you 

have to be, because they have so much impact on our Airmen. And if they 

don’t do it right, they can do a lot of damage. Nothing worse than a bad 

first sergeant.

You also focused on education and development 

quite a bit. At USAFE you created the NCO professional 

development seminar, which exists at most bases 

today in some form. Why was it important to build that 

seminar in between the PME [professional military 

education] that already existed?

The first professional development seminar I conducted was at 

SHAPE. Many of the noncommissioned officers there had lost their blue 

and were forgetting fundamental military discipline. I found there were a 

lot of people on those assignments who would extend and stay forever. I 

also recognized there were wide gaps between the time someone attended 

Airman Leadership School [ALS] and the NCO Academy. There might 

be a 10-year gap where someone’s professional development went into 

the idle mode. Following graduation from ALS you would be pumped up, 

reinvigorated, and re-blued. That would begin to fade as years went by prior 

to attending the NCO Academy. So the Professional Development Seminar 

was created to fill that gap—to take staff sergeants out of their workplace for 

a week and re-blue them. The effort at SHAPE was a much smaller scale than 

the ones we conducted at Ramstein. A lot of tremendous senior NCOs and 

officers participated, developing a locally based curriculum and agenda that 

directly tied to the mission. It gave young NCOs the big picture and access 

to personnel information and other material that they would not normally 

have on a day-to-day basis. It was information they could use to mentor their 

subordinates. The seminar was about Airmen taking care of Airmen. As part 

of the program, we would take support personnel (finance, personnel, etc.) 

down to the flight line and have them spend time with a crew chief. They 

would then appreciate the operational side of the mission. We even gave 

them a ride in the back of a C-130. All good stuff.

The first time it was just an informal thing. I got all the senior NCOs 

together, and I said, “Okay, let’s build a day-long seminar, and let’s address 

values. Let’s address professionalism. Let’s address how all this applies to 

the mission.” Senior NCOs volunteered their time to make presentations. 

We also had a first sergeant’s panel and a chief’s panel. At the end of the 

week, the USAFE commander would address the students. We filled the 

Tunner Conference Room with eager staff sergeants. All of our senior 

NCOs wanted to be engaged; they wanted to be involved. They said, “Hey, 

Chief, I’ll brief this, and I’ll brief that.” It brought the senior NCOs and 

junior NCOs together. It enhanced the communication.

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Each time it got better and better. Then they tried to make 

it more sophisticated. Next thing I knew, I had NCO Academy 

instructors that wanted to do it. They wanted to come over and 

formalize it. I said, “No, no, no. I don’t want to formalize it. I don’t 

want professional instructors doing this. It is not another level of 

professional military education. I want that master sergeant or that 

senior master sergeant from maintenance to come over here and get 

in front of 150 staff sergeants. I want them to have that experience, 

and learn from that experience.”

That’s how it started. We started the more formal process at 

Ramstein AB, and I had all of the main operating bases establish one as 

well. When I became the CMSAF, I made it mandatory for all installations.

It shows how much you championed education and 

development, both PME and other sources. Why was 

that so important to you?

If you’re going to have a professional NCO corps, then you 

have to focus on professional development. In addition to the formal 

education you get from the professional military education, you must 

fill those gaps in between. There is a tendency to become complacent 

and allow standards to become lax. That is when bad things happen. 

The professional development seminars helped sustain that focus on 

professional development.

You were the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

when we established our Air Force Core Values—

Integrity First, Service before Self, and Excellence in 

All We Do. You helped introduce the Little Blue Book. 

What was the impetus behind those values 

and that book?

Unfortunately, our core values were released following some 

very tragic things that happened in our Air Force between the years 

1994 and 1996. The first was the Black Hawk incident that took place 

on the Iraqi border in April 1994 as we were enforcing the no-fly zone 

as part of Operation Northern Watch. Two F-15s being controlled by an 

AWACS [Airborne Warning and Control System] aircraft misidentified 

and confused two US Army Black Hawks with what they thought were 

Soviet Hind helicopters and shot them down. A total of 26 people were 

killed—including French, Kurdish, US, etc. The helicopter mission, 

known as Eagle Flight, had been conducted by the Army for three years 

prior to the incident. On this particular day, the AWACS, for whatever 

reason, didn’t control the airspace properly. Initially, the pilots were 

charged with criminally negligent homicide, and several of the AWACS 

crewmembers were charged with dereliction of duty. Eventually, all 

charges were dropped with the exception of one AWACS crewmember, 

who was eventually acquitted at a court martial.

Bottom line—26 people killed, and no one was going to be held 

accountable. The investigation found multiple problems—the missions 

had not been integrated, even though Eagle Flight and the fighters had 

been in the same air space for more than three years; there was no preflight 

discussion regarding the possibility of friendlies in the same space; and the 

AWACS had fundamentally lost control of the mission. I believe they were 

only controlling four aircraft that day. Training and a lack of understanding 

on whether they were responsible for the helicopters was also an issue. 

In other words, there were a lot of mistakes and errors made. But the 

commanders in the chain of command failed to take any disciplinary action, 

nor did they hold people accountable in any way.

The lack of accountability did not set well with the Chief of Staff, 

General Fogleman. He would subsequently release an Accountability 

videotape for all officers and senior NCOs to view. In it, he admonished 

leadership that just because no one was sent to prison for their negligence, 

their actions did not meet Air Force standards—that the American people 

hold us to a higher standard. In the end, he disqualified crew members; 

placed disciplinary letters in the crew members’ records, and rescinded any 

pending PCS decorations. The actions included general officers. For the 

Chief of Staff to personally discipline individuals in the chain of command 

of other MAJCOM [major command] and subordinate commanders 

is unprecedented.

The second incident involved a B-52 crash that took place in June of 

1994 at Fairchild AFB, Washington, just a couple of months after the Black 

Hawk incident. A B-52 with four crewmembers on board was completing 

a practice flight for an air show that would occur the next day. At the 

conclusion of the practice, the pilot requested approval from the tower to 

land. As he turned toward making his final approach, he banked the aircraft 

past 90 degrees without sufficient airspeed or altitude to sustain flight. They 

crashed, resulting in a huge fireball and killing all four crewmembers. It was 

another tragedy that did not have to occur. It was the vice commander’s 

final flight before retirement; so, a lot of family and friends were on hand to 

celebrate. Instead, they witnessed a horrible tragedy.

The subsequent investigation concluded the accident was the 

result of the “pilot’s aggressive personality.” Further investigation revealed 

the pilot had six major flight violations in the past three years—any one of 

which should have disqualified him. Instead, the 10 colonels in the chain 

of command who had the moral obligation and responsibility failed to take 

him out of the airplane. The squadron commander had been lobbied by 

his junior pilots to disqualify him and attempted to do so with the director 

of operations, only to be told it would not happen. The only reason the 

squadron commander was on the plane that day was because he would not 

allow any of his subordinates to fly with that individual. 

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Bottom line—the pilot had a history of being unsafe, of being 

obnoxious, and undisciplined. Leadership failed and did not take the 

appropriate action, and if they had, this incident would have been 

prevented. Another tragedy that did not have to happen, and a lesson for 

all Airmen to speak up when you see something wrong and take action—

and if you are a leader, you better be listening to your Airmen.

First the tragic shoot-down of friendly Black Hawk helicopters, 

followed by the tragedy of the B-52 crash at Fairchild, and we would have 

yet another tragic incident in April of 1996. Secretary of Commerce Ron 

Brown, a charismatic public servant with excellent diplomatic skills, was 

a political appointee of President Clinton. The president had asked him 

to go to the Balkans on a diplomatic mission, which would originate at 

Ramstein AB, Germany. Following the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, a 

lot of former Eastern Bloc nations wanted to be considered for entrance 

into NATO. Keep in mind, we had recently established the air bridge at 

Tuzla, Bosnia, so there was a lot of activity in this region of the world. I 

was the USAFE senior enlisted advisor at the time.

The aircraft to be used was our CT-43 commercial type aircraft, 

which had been modified for VIP [very important persons] travel. It 

had a food galley and was very comfortable. We would use it when the 

commander and I would travel long distances to visit deployed Airmen, 

and typically a large contingent of personnel would accompany us. The 

aircraft fell under the operational control of the 86th Wing commander 

at Ramstein.

Ron Brown wanted to go to Tuzla, Bosnia; Zagreb, Croatia; and 

then on to Dubrovnik, Croatia. Unfortunately, they crashed 1.6 miles off 

course. They crashed into the mountain and killed all 35 souls on board. 

Initially, one of the flight attendants survived because she was seated in 

the rear of the aircraft, but her wounds would prove to be mortal. The 

location of the crash was very remote, and it took several hours for our 

special operations team and the Croatian army to find it.

The investigation found multiple errors made by the crew; that 

there was some bad weather in the area, which was a distraction; and the 

Dubrovnik airport lacked sophisticated navigation equipment to support 

landings and aircraft control. They were relying on beacon technology. 

The accumulation of crew mistakes, outdated navigation technology, 

weather, and other causes meant the aircraft was doomed to crash.

But what is most important to know—the aircraft never should have 

been there. Air Mobility Command [AMC] had said, “No Department of 

Defense aircraft will fly into Dubrovnik, Croatia.” The wing leadership 

knew this, but they wanted to do the mission badly. After all, we are 

the United States Air Force, and we can do anything. We’ve flown into 

this location previously; so, we knew how to do it. And besides, we are 

supporting the president of the United States, and if he wants a diplomat 

to go to Dubrovnik, then we’ll make it happen. So, the wing leadership 

requested a waiver from Air Mobility Command. However, AMC came 

back with a “no” and disapproved the request. They went ahead and did the 

mission anyway.

Sixteen officers were disciplined—this included the immediate 

firing of the wing commander, vice commander, and ops group commander. 

A flag officer at USAFE was disciplined as well. We disciplined a flag officer 

in USAFE as well—a total of 16 officers.

Regardless of the circumstances, you must follow the rules. They 

exist for a reason. The leadership at the wing did not have the authority to 

ignore or overrule the guidance from Air Mobility Command. Had they 

played by the rules, this tragedy would never have occurred and everyone 

would be alive today.

I took this tragedy personally. We had flown with these crew 

members, and the enlisted members had recently participated in my 

professional development seminar. Attending their funeral services and 

seeing their children and family members grieve for them broke my heart. 

I felt a personal responsibility for them—after all I held a senior leadership 

position within the command. I didn’t have operational responsibility, but it 

still weighs heavily on my mind.

These tragic incidents and a few other personal failures were having 

a negative impact on our Air Force. In General Fogleman’s mind, we had lost 

our way and we were making too many catastrophic mistakes. Leadership 

was failing.

Gen William Tecumseh Sherman, the famed Union Civil War 

general, was quoted as saying, “Every Army has a soul, just as a man has 

a soul. A commander must command the soul as well as his men.” The Air 

Force has a soul and spirit that is the aggregation of all of our hearts, minds, 

and spirits. To be a great leader, you have to recognize when that soul or 

spirit is in trouble. General Fogleman did just that—he knew he had to get 

the force back to basics.

According to an article by Gen Mike Ryan, published by Air 

University, the Air Force had core values as far back as the ’70s. But I don’t 

believe they were ever really codified. And there were more than three. I 

joined the Air Force in 1970, and other than being taught that values and 

how you conduct yourself matter, I do not recall any focus on core values. I am 

sure they existed, but they were obviously marginalized and not inculcated 

into our culture. General Fogleman took a look at this, and he thought, the 

Army had seven and they were all tied to the word leadership. The Navy and 

the Marine Corps had honor, courage, and commitment. He took a really 

hard look at this and came up with integrity, service, and excellence. He 

felt all the core values from the other services fit under those three, and that 

was all we needed. He didn’t want to complicate it; he didn’t want to make it 

something you had to work to memorize. He wanted the values to be in your 

heart and drive your behavior.

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In 1997 we released the Little Blue Book. We did a massive 

campaign effort to get them in the hearts and minds of every Airman. I 

did a videotape speaking to the core values that was looped on television 

sets at Lackland AFB basic training. So, while the trainees were standing 

in line at the dining facility, they would see me discussing core values. We 

also issued the Little Blue Book to every Airman and began discussing 

them at all levels of enlisted professional military education—to include 

ALS, NCOA, First Sergeant Academy, SNCO Academy, Air Force 

ROTC [Reserve Officer Training Corps], and the Air Force Academy, 

etc. General Fogleman reminded us that the tools of our trade are lethal. 

We are not a private industry or corporation that can afford not to live 

by values—they must be part of our DNA—Americans expect a higher 

standard, and we must live up to that standard. Live your life with your 

core values as your guiding light, and you will always do the right thing—

even when no one is looking.

Looking back now, it’s been almost 20 years since 

we identified and began inculcating our core values. 

Today, every Airman knows the core values. How do 

you think they’ve impacted the force we have today?

I’ll give you an example. The company I work for is USAA. I think 

everybody in the military probably knows who they are. They have core 

values: honesty, integrity, loyalty, and service. It’s a company that has 

been around for over 90 years, and it does extremely well. Then you look 

at a company like Enron that, probably, didn’t have core values, or at least 

didn’t create a culture that lived by those values. I think a lot of companies 

fail because they don’t recognize their organization has that soul and 

spirit. If you don’t stay on top of that, things will fail.

It’s the same way with the Air Force. I truly believe the vast 

majority of our Airmen today come to work every day with that kind of 

attitude, but we have to constantly reinforce the value.

The Air Force recently released an updated Little 

Blue Book. It focuses on the profession of arms and 

includes the core values as well as the oaths, the 

creeds, etc. Would you say it’s important to evolve 

and reinforce that mind-set in new ways?

Absolutely. I am especially pleased with the new version of the 

Little Blue Book called the Profession of Arms. Not only does it include 

the core values, but also the oath of enlistment, the code of conduct, and 

the Air Force Creed. All of these complement each other. It’s a great 

evolution by General Welsh and Chief Cody and will serve us well.

One of the things you did as the Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force was lead the change from the title 

senior enlisted advisor to command chief master 

sergeant, which included the new chevron. Why was 

that change important to you?

When I came into the Air Force back in 1970, the top chief on the 

base was known as the wing sergeant major. He sat in a prominent position 

within the headquarters, typically just outside the offices of the wing 

commander and the vice wing commander. The title was a throwback to 

the Army Air Corps days. But I really liked that title because it represented 

authority and strength. I recall my squadron commander’s reaction when 

he learned the wing sergeant major would be visiting his unit. He ordered 

everyone to clean up their areas, and anyone who needed a haircut should 

leave the building. The wing sergeant major had that kind of impact.

At some point the Air Force opted to abandon the title, which of 

course was the right thing to do. After a lot of back and forth between the 

Pentagon and the MAJCOMs, the title “senior enlisted advisor” [SEA] was 

adopted. I didn’t like the title at all, because I felt it as an effort to make 

the top chief on the base kinder and gentler. Indeed, SEAs were becoming 

more approachable and their role was expanding. The Air Force was coming 

to grips with a lot of social issues that included improving race relations, 

addressing the increased drug use among Airmen, and the rapidly expanding 

role of women in the Air Force. The SEA was now in a private office down 

the hall away from the command section. To me, there was some loss of daily 

access to the commander.

 

Further, the SEA title was abused widely. I recall having junior 

officers introducing a young master sergeant or technical sergeant to 

me as their “senior enlisted advisor.” The Air Force Personnel Center 

ran a listing for me on one occasion, only to find we had some 30,000 

senior enlisted advisors in the Air Force against a quota of roughly 

3,000 authorizations.

I had long, long thought we needed to change the title. We had 

actually discussed some options during CMSAF Dave Campanale’s tenure. 

We had mixed opinions at the table among the MAJCOM senior enlisted 

advisors. Some thought it would be seen as self-serving. One very strong 

advocate who shared my opinion was CMSgt Wayne Norad, the SEA for Air 

Force Special Operations Command. Wayne had spent a lot of time in the 

joint world and recognized the necessity for members from all services to 

be able to easily recognize the top enlisted leader, especially in a combat 

scenario. He had actually developed a prototype of the rank, a CMSgt tab 

with a star in the open field of the stripe. It was the precursor to the actual 

CCM [command chief master sergeant] stripe of today.

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We had another hurdle. Gen. Ron Fogleman had changed all 

of Gen. [Merrill A.] McPeak’s uniform changes that he implemented a 

few years prior. For instance, Gen. McPeak had removed the stars from 

general officer uniforms and put the rank on the sleeves of the dress 

uniform, similar to the Navy. There were other changes as well, and Gen. 

Fogleman reversed nearly all of them. He was tired of making uniform 

changes, and rightfully so. He had told the Air Force the uniform board 

was no longer in operation for a while. And so the command chief concept 

was tabled without action. Since Gen. Fogleman had hired me to be the 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, I was not in a position to bring a 

uniform change forward.

 

Following Gen. Fogleman’s retirement, Gen. Mike Ryan (my boss 

in USAFE) became the Chief of Staff. I thought, “Aha, I think we may have 

a shot at changing this.” I asked Chief Marc Mazza, the Air Force Material 

Command [AFMC] senior enlisted advisor to develop a talking paper and 

a prototype of the new stripe. I sat down with all of the MAJCOM SEAs 

[now known as the Enlisted Board of Directors, or EBOD] one last time 

and told them I planned on presenting the proposal to Gen. Ryan. I fully 

expected him to have me run it around the Air Staff for consideration.

It was a Thursday afternoon, and I went to see Gen. Ryan at his 

office in the Pentagon. We had both been traveling a lot, and so, it was 

time to catch up on a stack of issues and paperwork. We finally finished, 

and I said, “I have one last thing for you to consider. I put the talker and 

the visual representation of the stripe in front of him.” He looked it over 

and finally said, “I like it! Take it to Corona next week, and I’ll put it in 

front all the other four stars during our executive session.”

I was very excited that he had made his decision so quickly, and 

at the same time I knew I was behind the power curve. I didn’t have time 

to vet the concept through the former Chief Master Sergeants of the Air 

Force. This would not make them happy, and I knew that. I would have 

to take a lot of lumps from them. I immediately called all of the MAJCOM 

SEAs and told them to get with their four-star bosses to grease the skids 

before the executive session.

I had packages made for all the four stars. They went into private 

executive session for a couple of hours. When they emerged, Gen. Ryan 

handed me the packages and said, “Chief, done deal. Make it happen. 

They love the idea.”

I had a rocky relationship with the Air Force Times. It seemed the 

more I tried to be open and generous with my time with them, the more 

they screwed up what I said. The relationship had soured to the point where 

I requested the editor to come to my office for a discussion. I told him to 

have his reporters simply print exactly what I said—their embellishments 

were skewing my messages to our Airmen and forcing me to constantly 

correct what they had messed up. He finally acknowledged to me that if 

the Air Force Times did not print “edgy” material, Airmen would not 

buy the paper.

I wasn’t going to give them the opportunity this time. So, I called 

one of their reporters whom I trusted, a former Army sergeant public affairs–

type, and told him, “I’ve got a story for you and will be faxing a photo shortly. 

I am asking that you print the story exactly as I am sending it—nothing more 

and nothing less.” He promised he would, and he did.

I did my best to prep the field for the announcement and used every 

public affairs option open to me. Of course, I did get some pushback from 

some chiefs—they felt somehow emasculated because one chief would have 

a stripe different than their own. I got numerous e-mails from disgruntled 

chiefs, and I responded to each of them with my rationale for making the 

change. I responded to each one appropriately.

But here’s the point. The concept is compatible with what we do 

with first sergeants. We put a diamond in their sleeve so everyone knows 

who they are. There are certain expectations when you see the diamond. 

That first sergeant represents the policies of the commander, discipline 

within the unit, responsibility for the health and welfare of his/her unit. 

They are also the standard bearer for their unit—hopefully holding everyone 

to a higher standard.

The command chief does a similar thing—they represent the policies 

of the commander and are responsible for the health and welfare of the unit. 

They also oversee the first sergeant community at their installation.

And we needed relevancy in the joint world. While in Bosnia, I would 

sometimes travel with the 1st Armored Division command sergeant major. 

He had a distinctive chevron, which made him stand out to his soldiers. I 

would walk alongside two other chiefs—no one knew who I was because our 

chevrons were the same. They didn’t know I was the USAFE senior enlisted 

advisor. When you walk into a room and there are 30 chiefs in there, one of 

them is the command chief. Our Airmen need to know who that person is.

The four stars loved it, every one of them, unanimous. They said, 

“Chief, if I wanted advice, I’d get advice. I need a ‘Chief’ who represents my 

command.” It’s another one of those culture things. I thought it was a great 

improvement, and I think it has served us very well since.

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Today command chiefs are well known and well 

visible as the leaders of the enlisted force. As you 

were saying, anybody can identify them on the base. 

If you could give a bit of advice to senior NCOs or 

chiefs today, what would that advice be?

The Air Force continues to evolve and there are certainly a lot 

of changes happening today. Our senior NCOs and chiefs have to help 

the Chief of Staff and the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force with 

the vision. They can fight like brothers and sisters and debate privately, 

but publicly, they need to support the senior leadership in the Pentagon. 

And the vision needs to be with the thought in mind, “Where is this force 

going to be 20 years from now?” They need to be part of the discussion. 

At the same time, never forget where you came from—never forget the 

fundamentals, the basics.

My military training instructor [MTI], Sergeant Worley, gave me 

three words that I have always remembered and applied to leadership. Our 

flight had really screwed up one day and basically flunked a standardization 

evaluation conducted by three other MTIs. After they had departed our 

barracks, Sergeant Worley told us we “had no discipline, no standards, 

and we sure as heck didn’t work together as a team.” I thought about that 

from a leadership perspective. I was 18 years old, so I didn’t think much 

then. I was just trying to survive, but over the years, I began reflecting on 

what he said. Military discipline is taught in basic training. I have always 

felt we learned everything we needed to know in BMT [basic military 

training] to be successful Airmen. How to wear the uniform, how to be on 

time, how to comply with rules and regulations, core values, how to treat 

each other with dignity and respect. All of that was given to us in BMT.

We also learned leadership by example and that setting a higher 

standard bar is important. There is no room for mediocrity. When a unit 

is mediocre, it fails, and anyone with mediocre standards is dangerous. 

Great leaders always set the standard bar high and lead people to achieve 

that standard. I have visited countless units over the years, and that’s 

exactly what I’ve seen. I’ve seen leaders who set a standard bar, and guess 

what—others will work to achieve that standard. Conversely, I have seen 

leaders set a very low expectation, and guess what—Airmen will also 

achieve that lower standard as well. Leadership by example—it’s as simple 

as that. Discipline, standards, teamwork.

Finally, there is teamwork—whether you are an Airman basic or a 

four-star general, you have a job to do in the Air Force. You must come 

to work every day with your game face on—fully engaged and prepared 

mentally and physically to do your job. Everyone has to pull their weight. 

When we do that, the Air Force succeeds. We win and we lose as a team.

In a previous interview you spoke about your wife 

Johnne and said something like, “The only reason I 

became the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force is 

because she nailed the interview.” Can you comment on 

the role and impact families have in the Air Force, and 

how that has changed since you joined in the ’70s? 

When I became the senior enlisted advisor at 12th Air Force, back 

in 1993, Erica, our daughter, was three years old. I said to my wife Johnne, 

“We need to have a conversation about what this means to our family. I’m 

going to be gone. I’m going to be down in South America. I’m going to 

places like Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, where our Air Force is conducting 

counterdrug operations. We have 10 wings; I’m going to be traveling to 

all those locations in the States. I’m going to be on the road anywhere from 

200 to 300 days a year. That goes with the territory.” Obviously, that would 

have family impact, and I was concerned—especially for Erica, who was 

so young.

I told Johnne, “I can turn this job down. I can get a functional 

manager job somewhere. I can do some other chief’s job. That’s fine with 

me.” She said, “No, if that’s what you want to do, if that’s where your heart 

is, we’ll be behind you and we’ll follow you.” So, we went to Davis-Monthan 

AFB [Arizona]. The three of us spent three months in a one-bedroom 

efficiency apartment, waiting for our home to be built. We moved in on New 

Year’s Day in 1993. We sold that home eight months later when I followed 

General Jamerson to USAFE and became the USAFE senior enlisted 

advisor. Eighteen months later, we would leave Germany headed to the 

Pentagon. I had to report early, so Johnne was left behind to pack up the 

household goods and ship them. She never complained—not once during 

my entire tenure as a senior enlisted advisor or as the CMSAF. Spouses 

simply do not get enough credit—they forfeit their own careers, they have to 

take care of all of the home issues, handle the finances—and they constantly 

live in the world of the unknown, wondering if their spouse will be okay or 

not. Erica never complained either. She went to eight different schools . . . 

of course I kept her happy by bringing home the newest Barbie Doll or the 

newest Beanie Baby.

One day Johnne called the office, seven months in advance, 

and said, “I want you to block this date in June. You can have him 

on Christmas, Thanksgiving, and all the other holidays. He can go on 

the USO [United Service Organization] tour to the desert over the 

holidays, but I want him home on this particular day in June, and I’m 

giving you seven months’ notice.” So the staff said okay. My schedule 

was cleared that day, and I was with the family. It was my daughter’s 

first communion. Johnne wanted me there; it was very important to 

her that I be there, and I was. In all the time we served, that was the 

only request she ever made for my time.

198
She said in a previous interview that she knew the Air Force came 

first, that family was second. We always say family’s first, but in reality it 

is the Air Force family that comes first. The real heroes of our military are 

the spouses, the children. They’re the ones that stay home and deal with 

the drama. They deal with the broken refrigerator or the car that broke 

down. They deal with the finances, making sure we don’t overspend. More 

importantly, since 9/11 there have been a lot of spouses that have had 

to worry continuously about the unknown. Where is my spouse today? 

They’re over in Iraq or Afghanistan, but I don’t know where. They have 

to worry about the chaplain who may show up at the front door someday 

and say your husband or your wife isn’t coming home. For that we owe 

them our deepest respect. They serve this country as much as a person 

in uniform.

Absolutely, thank you. Final question, when you 

think about the Air Force today, and specifically our 

Airmen, and you had to begin a sentence with 

“I believe . . . ,” what would you say?

I believe that many years from now the people who are serving 

this nation will be seen as a great generation, just as we view the WWII 

vets as the greatest generation. Just as the WWII generation faced evil on 

a global scale, so do our service members today face evil globally. I very 

much believe in legacy. I spoke recently to a Veterans of Foreign Wars 

national convention where the average age was 66. There were a lot of 

World War II, Korean War veterans there, and a preponderance of them 

were Vietnam veterans. I talked to them about the legacy they left this 

generation. I told them, “When you look in this generation’s eyes, you 

can see your legacy. You can see the legacy of courage and valor and grit 

and determination, all the things that made you great Soldiers, Sailors, 

Airmen, Marines, Coast Guardsmen. All of that is in the spirit of those 

serving and fighting today.” I believe today’s generation of warriors, that 

have been in this continuous battle for more than a decade, are just as 

good as any warrior we’ve ever produced before, and they will be viewed 

as a great generation.

199
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Frederick “Jim” Finch

August 2,1999 - june 28, 2002

Frederick J. “Jim” Finch was 

born on 29 July 1956 and was raised 

in East Hampton, New York. He 

developed a tough work ethic in his 

youth, simultaneously holding two parttime jobs while completing high school. 

He had attended a vocational school, 

studying auto mechanics, but knew there 

was more beyond the small confines of his 

hometown. He enlisted in the Air Force 

under the delayed enlistment program 

during his senior year in high school.

Finch began his career in the 

munitions storage area--“bomb dump”—

serving at Homestead AFB, Florida, 

and then RAF Welford, England. He 

returned to Homestead and became 

a missile maintenance crew chief. 

However, his career took a different path 

after attending the Noncommissioned 

Officer (NCO) Leadership School.

Staff Sergeant Finch became 

an instructor at Homestead’s NCO 

Professional Military Education 

(PME) Center. Four years later he 

moved to Air University (AU) to help 

develop curriculum and teach new 

instructors in the recently created 

“NCO Preparatory Course.”

Four years later, he was 

reassigned to the Air Force Military 

Personnel Center (AFMPC) as a 

functional manager for the Air Force 

NCO PME program. During this tour, 

he helped implement major policy 

changes to the PME program, including 

the creation of the Airman Leadership 

School, the expansion of the Senior NCO 

Academy to include master sergeants, 

and the automation of NCO PME quota 

management across the major commands 

(MAJCOM). Upon promotion to chief 

master sergeant, he transferred to Alaska 

as the commandant of the Pacific Air 

Forces NCO Academy.

In the summer of 1993 Chief 

Finch was reassigned as the senior 

enlisted advisor (SEA) for Eleventh Air 

Force in Alaska. During this tour, the 

Air Force deactivated three remote sites: 

King Salmon AS, Galena AS, and 

Erickson AS (Shemya).

200
In 1995 Chief Finch became the second SEA (later renamed 

command chief master sergeant) for the recently created Air Combat 

Command (ACC). At the time, ACC was the primary force provider for 

Operation Southern Watch and led efforts to manage Air Expeditionary 

Force (AEF) taskings.

In June 1999 Gen Michael Ryan selected Chief Finch to be 

the 13th Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force (CMSAF). During his 

tenure, Finch helped move the Air Force toward an expeditionary mindset. He continued to solidify the AEF concept, focused on deliberate force 

development initiatives, and helped implement the first “Warrior Week” 

at basic military training. He also led the Air Force through the beginning 

stages of Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) following the attacks of 11 

September 2001. CMSAF Finch turned over the reins to CMSAF #14 

Gerald Murray on 1 July and retired effective 1 October 2002.

CMSAF Finch sat down for an interview in August 2015 to reflect 

on his life and career in the Air Force. During the interview, he spoke 

about his passion for PME, the importance of mentorship, and the intense 

aftermath in Washington, DC, following the 9/11 attacks. The following 

are edited excerpts from the conversation.

You enlisted in the Air Force in the early 1970s—

soon after the end of the draft. What made you want 

to volunteer then? 

I decided to join in the middle of my high school years. I was 

attending a vocational school with some friends during my junior year and 

realized becoming an auto mechanic was not the path I wanted to take in 

life. I honestly didn’t know where my future was headed. I looked to the 

Air Force because my neighbor was an Air Force retiree. One of his sons 

was my best friend who had joined the Air Force a couple of years earlier. 

I thought, “Maybe I’ll just join the Air Force.” I started visiting the local 

Air Force recruiter quite a bit during my senior year of high school and 

enlisted before graduation. I entered the delayed enlistment program to 

obtain a basic training slot that summer.

After high school graduation, I quit my two jobs and took a fouror five-week vacation before starting my new life in the Air Force. Looking 

back now, I suspect joining the military was more about growing up—

like a rite of passage to manhood. My dad had been a “Frozen Chosen” 

Marine during the Korean War; uncles and cousins had served in both the 

Army and Navy over the years.1

 They often spoke about their experiences 

traveling the world, although rarely about life in combat. None were 

commissioned officers; so, their expectation was that I would enlist, serve 

three or four years, and return home a man.

Honestly, I didn’t know what I wanted to do in life at the time. 

However, I knew what I didn’t want. There was no future in a small town 

delivering groceries, working in a movie theater, or commercial fishing. I 

thought there must be something better out there. My recruiter told me I had 

good aptitude scores and I could enlist with a guaranteed job in electronics. 

I had no clue what that meant, but it seemed pretty high tech and exciting 

in 1974; so, I signed up. As it turned out, I became an air-to-air and air-toground missile maintenance technician—precision guided munitions using 

today’s terms, or more affectionately part of the “ammo” community.

In the early 1970s, America was shifting military 

service away from the draft to an all-volunteer 

force. What are your thoughts on the overall 

sentiment of the shift?

Although I knew I had to register for the draft, I wasn’t directly 

affected, since I joined the Air Force prior to my 18th birthday. Plus, the 

draft had just ended the year before. However, American sentiment was 

certainly antimilitary at the time. I suspect this was mostly because the 

Vietnam War was very unpopular.

I recall my first trip home on leave—I was in tech school at the time. 

I was proud to be in the Air Force and wore my white tee shirt with big 

blue Air Force letters across the front everywhere I went. I wanted people 

to know I was in the service, a member of the US Air Force, and an adult. 

Unfortunately, few in my hometown seemed to care, and the friends I grew 

up with didn’t come up to congratulate me. In fact, I felt shunned and looked 

down upon because I was in the military. Frankly, that was the last time I 

ever wore my uniform home. I also avoided wearing anything around my 

hometown indicating I was in the Air Force.

You saw it in other areas too. My first supervisor and many of the 

junior NCOs in my shop had joined the Air Force to avoid being drafted 

into the Army. Most had just returned from Thailand and were counting 

the days until they could separate. They didn’t want to be called “lifers” 

or give anyone the impression they enjoyed Air Force life. When it came 

to standards, they tended to meet them for inspections only, which we had 

weekly. Hairstyles were much different. During the week, some folks had 

their hair slicked down with “dippity do,” and on weekends, I could hardly 

recognize them with their long hair or their afros. 

You might wonder why Airmen were like that back then. I suspect 

it had more to do with the fact they didn’t want to identify with the military 

because many Americans socially shunned or spit on them. They learned 

how to fit in. It was a difficult period, and I understand why some felt the 

need to challenge our grooming standards. We live in a much different 

environment today.

201
Sure. You were working with Airmen in the bomb dump, 

I guess that’s what they say.

The bomb dump was a cool place. Ammo was, and is to this day, a 

close-knit community within the Air Force.

What was your first impression of the Air Force, 

Airmen, and the culture you just entered?

Keep in mind, when I joined the Air Force, we were still wearing 

tan 1505s and fatigues, and there were beer machines in all the day 

rooms at tech school, since the legal drinking age was 18. I graduated 

from tech school in the spring of 1975 and arrived at my first duty station 

at Homestead AFB. We were part of the 31st TAC [Tactical] Fighter 

Wing. Since most of the live munitions were still over in Southeast Asia 

to support the Vietnam conflict, all we had to work on were a handful of 

training missiles.

My shop was run by a senior master sergeant. The other leadership 

included one technical sergeant and two staff sergeants. Everyone else in 

the 60-person shop was either an E-4 sergeant or an airman first class. 

The senior airman rank didn’t exist at the time.

The E-4 sergeants were the first-level supervisors, because we 

had a plethora, if you will, of brand new Airmen assigned. We couldn’t 

look to the E-4 sergeants for guidance, since most were ill-prepared for 

their supervisory role. There was no Airman Leadership School or NCO 

Preparatory Course for first-term Airmen. In fact, the NCO Orientation 

Course didn’t come online until late 1976 or early 1977. There was 

virtually nothing to help prepare people for transition to NCO status. 

One day someone was an airman first class and the next an E-4 sergeant 

responsible for supervising, writing APRs [Airman Performance Report], 

and being an NCO leader. It was just assumed everyone knew what they 

were supposed to do.

Mostly, I just tried to get along. The staff sergeants were usually 

in charge. The tech sergeant and senior master sergeant were too far 

removed from where I was operating. I knew who they were, but they 

didn’t dictate what I did moment by moment. I basically looked to the 

staff sergeants to figure out what was right and wrong. I recall thinking 

about the day I would be one of those guys—you know, the guy holding the 

coffee cup telling everyone else what to do!

In 1976 one of my close friends and I decided we would volunteer 

for overseas assignments. We went together to the CBPO, which stood 

for Consolidated Base Personnel Office—MPF [Military Personnel 

Flight] using today’s terms—to update our dream sheets. He selected 

the Netherlands, and I volunteered for England. Surprisingly, about two 

weeks later we each received assignments—him to Soesterberg [AB], 

Netherlands, and me to RAF Welford in the UK [United Kingdom]. Sadly, 

we never crossed paths again.

I arrived at RAF Welford an airman first class. I had expected to make 

sergeant soon after arriving. However, the Air Force had just announced 

a new policy that all those promoted to E-4 would first spend a year as a 

senior airman to gain experience. And, they would attend a class preparing 

them to become noncommissioned officers. I must admit, I wasn’t thrilled 

when I learned that my tech school buddies who had enlisted for six years 

and become airman first class out of basic training made sergeant before the 

new policy went into effect. I, on the other hand, was still going to be called 

Airman for another year. I was a senior airman the first year we had the rank. 

We changed the silver star to blue for senior airman and below chevrons. 

Silver stars were for NCOs only. I recall many first-term Airmen painted over 

the blue star upon promotion to sergeant, since they were separating from 

the Air Force in a few months and didn’t want the expense of sewing on new 

chevrons. Eventually, I made sergeant during this tour. However, everyone 

in my shop still outranked me; so, my job remained the same—sanding 

missiles, painting missiles, and doing all the things missile maintenance 

technicians did back then. Basically, whatever our staff sergeant said to do—

that’s pretty much what we did.

A couple of years into that tour, I received an assignment back 

to Homestead and a line number for staff sergeant. I can remember how 

excited I was, thinking I would return to the same missile shop with a senior 

master sergeant, a tech sergeant, and two staff sergeants—only this time I 

would be one of those staff sergeants! As it turned out, we still had a senior 

master sergeant shop chief when I arrived. However, now there were also a 

couple of master sergeants and four or five technical sergeants. Soon after 

arriving, I became the eighth ranking staff sergeant in the shop of about 50 

folks with plenty of supervision. Also, we had igloos full of live missiles that 

had arrived from Southeast Asia—it was a busy place. My unofficial duty title 

was “Assistant to the Assistant Crew Chief.” So, I was in charge whenever 

one was on leave and the other went to lunch! It was much different than 

what I had initially expected.

Virtually all my original Homestead teammates had separated by 

the time I returned for my second tour there, and attitudes were beginning 

to change. We also had a few women in the shop—something new in the 

bomb dump back then. Over the next couple of years, people departed, and 

I moved up the ladder—eventually becoming the swing shift supervisor. It 

was surprising how fast changes happened.

I worked with some very good Airmen and NCOs during my first 

six years in the Air Force—my ammo years—and I still have lifelong friends 

from that period. However, a few of my colleagues were not so good. They 

resented being forced to serve in the military and seemed to take it out on 

whomever they could. A couple of coworkers from my shop at Welford made 

different life choices and consequently served a few years incarcerated at 

Fort Leavenworth. Overall, it was these folks and their good or bad actions 

who influenced and shaped my original view of Air Force life.

202
What did you learn from that period that stuck 

with you or influenced how you would lead later 

in your career?

There were a few things I learned from that period. First, life is 

full of choices, and the decisions you make tend to either open or close 

doors. Also, when you’re placed in charge, the burden is on you to ensure 

the job is completed—and done correctly. You simply must perform. The 

expectation is much different when you’re responsible for others.

I yearned for leadership positions early on. However, I was a staff 

sergeant with over a year in grade before I received any formal training 

about how be a noncommissioned officer in our Air Force. It was at the 

NCO Leadership School [NCOLS].

There were many lessons while at the NCOLS about 

communication, leadership and management, military studies, and world 

affairs. I learned about my personal strengths and weaknesses. And more 

importantly, I discovered I could compete academically with the best 

NCOs there. I enjoyed the competition and was amazed to graduate at 

the top of my class. This drastically improved my overall confidence as an 

NCO and made me aware of opportunities I hadn’t known existed.

Another important event from that period had a significant 

impact on our NCO corps and how I would later view NCO professional 

development. The AFMIG [Air Force Management Improvement Group] 

study led to the creation of the senior airman rank and put us on a different 

developmental path for Air Force NCOs.2

 As I mentioned earlier, 

I was a senior airman the first year we had them. Since I was at a GSU 

[geographically separated unit], I didn’t complete the NCO Orientation 

Course with peers in a classroom setting. The rank was unpopular 

because airmen first class (E-3) expected NCO status with promotion to 

E-4. However, it was monumental for the Air Force and for the enlisted 

force specifically.

I believe it was the first time we embraced the idea that we must 

educate and prepare people before holding them accountable for certain 

responsibilities. Senior airman was a one-year transition rank to E-4 

sergeant that required mandatory NCO PME attendance for promotion 

to NCO status. Although we later eliminated the E-4 sergeant rank, the 

concept of education before responsibility continued. It also shaped many 

of my later ideas about deliberate development—especially during my time 

as both a command chief master sergeant and as the Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force.

At that point, your career trajectory changed 

quite a bit. You became an NCO PME instructor.

Yes. I was recruited to join the NCO PME Center staff soon after 

my NCOLS graduation. It seemed like the best option for me since I knew 

the Air Force was eliminating my AFSC [Air Force Specialty Code] and 

would reclassify those who chose not to retrain. Little did I know it would 

completely change my career path in the Air Force. When I joined the NCO 

PME Center faculty, we taught the NCO Orientation Course, which was a 

2.5-day program for senior airmen; the USAF Supervisors Course, a twoweek program for new E-4 sergeants and staff sergeants; and the NCOLS, 

a 30-day in-residence program also for sergeants and staff sergeants. Both 

the NCO Orientation Course and the USAF Supervisors’ Course were 

centrally developed at Air University. However, the NCOLS and NCO 

academies were owned and operated by the MAJCOMs. Consequently, 

we were responsible for locally developing our own curriculum and tests. 

During my tour at the Homestead AFB NCO PME Center, our major 

command, Tactical Air Command [TAC], began to consolidate curriculum 

development so that all the TAC NCOLS programs would be similar. I recall 

working on some of the curriculum writing teams with instructors from 

other schools. I was promoted to technical sergeant about three years into 

my tour and became the NCO PME Center’s director of education for my 

last year there.

You mentioned in previous interviews we have read 

that I think you met a guy named Richard Roller 

around that time.

Yes, Richard is my brother from another mother. Technical Sergeant 

Roller started out as my NCO Leadership School instructor. He then 

became my immediate supervisor when I joined the faculty. He made master 

sergeant and moved to the Leadership and Management Development 

Center [LMDC] at Air University in early 1984. As it turns out, I joined 

him a year later and was promoted to master sergeant in late 1985. We then 

were master sergeants together. He was my next-door neighbor for a couple 

of years, was the best man at my wedding, is the godfather for two of our 

sons, and remains an integral part of our family to this day. He has been one 

of my mentors for my entire adult life and has known me since I was in my 

early 20s as a young NCO.

How did that mentorship relationship begin?

I suspect I was looking for direction. I wanted to be part of 

something bigger than me. When I attended the NCOLS, I realized there 

were people who focused on issues and ideas I thought were important—like 

how to grow the next generation of enlisted leaders. It opened my eyes to 

new possibilities.

It began with Richard requesting me to join them. He asked me to 

become an NCO PME instructor at Homestead PME Center, and frankly, 

it was a pretty cool gig. When I first arrived, NCO PME instructors carried 

special duty identifier [SDI] 99502—which was the same as military training 

instructors [MTI] at basic military training. In the summer of 1980, we 

split from the MTIs and picked up our own SDI—99605. At the end of 

my four-year controlled tour, I was again faced with retraining. My missile 

maintenance AFSC was gone, and I was ineligible for an overseas assignment 

without a primary AFSC.

203
Luckily, Richard somehow convinced the leadership at Air 

University to consider me for a position. I was fortunate they called, since 

I was unsure what other options were available.

For background—the Air Force modified the NCO PME program 

from five levels to four in 1984. The NCO Orientation Course and the 

USAF Supervisors’ Course went away, and a new program called the 

NCO Preparatory Course [NCOPC] stood up. It was a two-week long 

course taught to senior airmen at virtually every major installation in the 

Air Force. It included testing and other evaluations, with a requirement 

to pass before becoming an NCO. The rationale at the time was to reblue our Airmen and put rigor in the program. Since this program was 

centrally developed and managed at Air University, it made sense they 

would also have a course to teach new PME instructors how to instruct 

and run the program at the base level. Also, at the time, there was no 

correspondence version of the NCOPC for those on active duty, in the Air 

National Guard, or in the Air Force Reserves who simply couldn’t attend a 

resident program.

So, again thanks to Richard, I was asked to consider joining the 

LMDC faculty in the fall of 1984 with the initial intent of developing 

a correspondence version of the NCOPC. I accepted and moved to 

Maxwell AFB, Alabama. My next year included developing testing 

instruments and working with some very talented writers at the Center 

for Aerospace Doctrine, Research, and Education to publish the NCOPC 

by correspondence. When that was completed, I was tasked to run the 

NCOPC instructors course and later became chief of the NCO PME 

Evaluations Branch at LMDC.

The NCO PME faculty at LMDC was led and mentored by 

CMSgt Jimmie B. Lavender. He was one of the finest chiefs ever, and he 

continues to be a source of inspiration for me today. LMDC was renamed 

to the Center for Professional Development [CPD] during my tour there. 

I was also promoted to master sergeant. Therefore, when my Code 50 was 

about to expire, I found myself as a senior NCO [SNCO], again, without a 

viable AFSC or job.3

I had always wanted to go to Alaska, and a former classmate 

worked at the NCO academy there. He had previously told me to give him 

a call if I ever wanted a job at their NCO academy. So, I called him. He 

was the director of education at the time. Unfortunately, he felt I had too 

much time in grade as a master sergeant to be a classroom instructor, and I 

would create a potential problem by taking a leadership position they had 

groomed someone else to fill. He apologized for turning me away, and I 

went back to exploring retraining options.

Fortunately, I was asked soon after to move to the Air Force 

Military Personnel Center, MPC as it was affectionately called back 

then. I became the functional representative for the 99605 NCO PME 

community. I worked there for a great personnel expert, CMSgt Chuck 

Hasty. He taught me about the Air Force personnel system, how to 

properly staff packages and change policies, and more leadership lessons 

on hard work and ethics than I can count. This assignment was a four-year 

controlled tour—again in SDI 99605. I made senior master sergeant within 

the first year after arriving and was selected for promotion to chief master 

sergeant about three years later—before my tour was up. Unfortunately, I 

was now a chief without an AFSC or many crossflow options—since the Air 

Force didn’t have a program to retrain chief master sergeants.

Fortunately, the NCO commandant job in Alaska became available. 

I received a call asking if I was interested in replacing the commandant 

who had just moved over to become the 3rd Wing senior enlisted advisor. 

Ironically, he was the same person who had previously turned me away from 

an assignment there when I was a master sergeant. I gladly accepted the 

position. Later, I was offered the opportunity to become the Eleventh Air 

Force senior enlisted advisor and then the command chief master sergeant 

for Air Combat Command.

All the jobs from a PME instructor at Homestead AFB to the ACC 

command chief began with someone asking me if I would consider doing a 

particular job. When I became the Chief Master of the Air Force, I realized I 

was always a willing participant—but never a volunteer. It was a concept that 

stuck with me. I kept thinking we tend to put people in boxes—volunteer 

and nonvolunteer—basically because of laws and regulations regarding 

the assignment business. Unfortunately, some start making erroneous 

assumptions that people who are not volunteers won’t do a good job. I was 

willing, but I wasn’t a volunteer. There are many great and willing people 

out there, and we must figure out how to identify them. This is an important 

point. I’m happy we now embrace the idea of leveraging those willing for 

developmental and nominative duties. We made some policy changes 

during my tenure to help further this concept.

How important would you say mentoring is to the 

development of the enlisted force?

It is the key to deliberate development. Part of mentoring is setting 

the right expectations. We all want to know what others, particularly leaders, 

expect from us. We also set expectations for others around us. Frankly, what 

I faced as an Airman is considerably different from what we expect of today’s 

Airmen. We ask much more of young Airmen today. The expectations for 

NCOs are also different. I look at the bios of some current command chiefs 

and see amazing educational levels and operational accomplishments. 

Clearly, the deliberate development expectations for them differed from 

what was asked of us on our Air Force journey.

The bigger issue is not focusing on what changed to grow today’s 

leaders, but understanding the needs of tomorrow. We must adjust 

expectations and provide opportunities now to meet those needs. In other 

words, what must we accomplish today so Airmen can meet the challenges 

they will face tomorrow?

204
When I was the CMSAF in 2000, our focus was on developing 

the right force for 2010. We were trying to figure out what enlisted 

leaders should look like 10 years out and what programs or policies 

would help get them there. The current leadership team in the Pentagon 

is also focused on setting people up for success down the road. Their goal 

should be to have qualified people on the bench to meet the requirements 

of our enlisted force in 2020, 2025, and beyond. That is the challenge. 

The force of yesterday is interesting for perspective but not necessarily 

relevant to future needs.

You spent a lot of your career in enlisted 

professional military education (EPME). At one point, 

you were tasked to figure out how to put master 

sergeants into the Senior NCO Academy, which proved 

to be a challenge. Why was that important?

I’ve told the story, sometimes in an open forum that my first major 

task when I arrived at AFMPC as the NCO PME functional was to find a 

way to put master sergeants into Senior NCO Academy classes. And my 

last task before I left four years later was to rewrite the policies to take 

master sergeants back out of the Senior NCO Academy. Some might infer 

we thought we had made a mistake by allowing master sergeants to attend. 

However, both were right decisions at the right times.

In 1988 about 250 people attended each SNCO Academy class. 

That was the seating capacity in their auditorium. They taught five classes 

a year. So, if you do the math, there were 1,250 seats available annually at 

the Senior NCO Academy. We were also promoting about 1,700 active 

duty master sergeants to senior master sergeant every year. The Senior 

NCO Academy was, at the time, a school for senior master sergeants and 

chief master sergeants. So, those seats were designed primarily to educate 

the most senior enlisted leaders of our Air Force.

Of the 1,250 seats, 75 were blocked for Air National Guard, Air 

Force Reserve, and sister-service students—about 15 per class. That left 

1,175 seats annually to meet the needs of Air Force active duty senior 

NCOs. The alternative for all who didn’t attend in-residence was to live 

with only the correspondence course on their records or compete for one 

of the few sister-service school slots. There were no other options.

Selection to attend the Senior NCO Academy was tied to the 

senior master sergeant promotion list. Every year, we would promote 

about 1,700 and offer PME to 1,175 of them. The other 525 never had 

an opportunity to attend. We did allow chief master sergeants to attend if 

they had been overlooked previously. But, they basically took a seat from 

next year’s E-8 promotion list. We tried to evenly distribute Senior NCO 

Academy seats across AFSCs by creating an order-of-merit list for each 

AFSC, using promotion board and test scores. 

I was initially caught off guard when I learned about an initiative to 

allow E-7s into school. I thought, “How are we going to do this? We don’t 

have enough seats for all the senior master sergeant promotees. Why would 

we give them to those not selected for promotion?” The official guidance 

was that master sergeants were senior NCOs, and Air Force leadership 

wanted to send people to school earlier.

Our task was to figure out how to find the right master sergeants to 

send. Ideally, we would send only those already destined to become senior 

master sergeants and chiefs. Of course, we didn’t know how attendance 

would impact future promotion opportunities. There was concern that 

school selection as a master sergeant might, by itself, change the normal 

promotion order of merit to senior master sergeant for some AFSCs.

Initially, we didn’t have a selection process designed to meet the 

immediate need. For the first year, the MAJCOMs selected master sergeant 

attendees. Then we started selecting them based only on the combined 

promotion board and test scores from each respective AFSC during the 

senior master sergeant promotion cycle. Those factors seemed to be the 

biggest predictors of future promotion and were variables people could 

influence. We also allowed MAJCOM commanders to add other deserving 

master sergeants to the list based on other factors or because some had not 

yet competed for promotion to E-8. Ultimately, master sergeant attendance 

became the driving factor to expand the Senior NCO Academy production 

and build a new facility.

Once we publicly stated we would allow master sergeants in school, 

we created a requirement that didn’t exist before. Now it wasn’t just 1,700 

people annually trying to fit into 1,175 active duty seats. We had 30,000-

plus master sergeants who were instantly eligible, and we needed a much 

larger school. Construction to expand the Senior NCO Academy began 

soon after I attended as a student—during my AFMPC tour.

The expanded facility was slated to include a 500-person auditorium, 

which meant we would be able to teach 500 students per class, or 3,000 

annually. It didn’t take a math wizard to figure out educating 3,000 people 

every year while only promoting 1,700 to senior master sergeant would 

eventually make the Senior NCO Academy a school for master sergeants. 

We began placing master sergeants in school before construction 

began. However, it wasn’t long before the issue of fairness to the senior 

master sergeant community came back into play. With 3,000 annual seats, 

we had an opportunity to capture all those senior master sergeants who had 

previously been denied the opportunity to attend the resident program. 

Keep in mind, for a couple of years, we had told some E-8 selectees their 

school seat would go to others lower on the promotion list—in the nonselect category. It was a tough pill for those good enough for promotion but 

not for school.

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Since we could eliminate the backlog in a relatively short 

timeframe, it made sense to suspend master sergeant attendance until all 

the senior master sergeants could get through school. So, we changed the 

policy back. We also began requiring resident attendance for promotion 

to chief master sergeant.

Out of context, it looks like we kept changing the policy—first 

master sergeants could attend, then they couldn’t. Frankly, I doubt we 

would have received support for the Senior NCO Academy expansion 

without a policy change to allow E-7s into school. However, I was happy 

we went back to capture all the overlooked E-8s, since they would be our 

enlisted leaders for the next decade or more.

You mentioned earlier you were involved in 

developing curriculum for the NCO Preparatory 

Course. You also attended the NCO Leadership School, 

and now we have the Airman Leadership School and 

NCO Academy. It kind of speaks to the 

evolution of our PME.

It was much different. When I became a PME instructor, there were 

five levels of enlisted professional military education. One was a 2.5-day 

course for senior airmen. One was a two-week course for young sergeants 

and staff sergeants and lower grade Air Force civilians. There were no 

tests or awards involved in either of these courses—just a discussion on 

management and leadership issues. The next two levels, NCO Leadership 

School and NCO Academy, were competitive courses both to enter and to 

graduate. The top level was the Air Force Senior NCO Academy.

Historically, we have had NCO academies and NCO leadership 

schools since the 1950s. In 1973 we moved to three levels of enlisted 

PME with the addition of the Senior NCO Academy. In 1976 we added 

two more levels. In 1984 we consolidated back to four levels. In 1990 

we returned to three levels—one for Airmen, one for NCOs, and one for 

senior NCOs. Of those levels, some were written and managed for the 

Air Force at Air University, while others were controlled and funded by 

the MAJCOMs. We didn’t stand up the College for Enlisted PME until 

1993.4

 This centralized both curriculum and course management for the 

enlisted PME program. 

You were also pretty heavily involved in 

developing Airman Leadership School when that 

came about, right?

When we decided as an Air Force we were going to move away 

from the four levels of PME, I was a senior master sergeant working PME 

issues at AFMPC. As I recall, the topic first came up at the 1990 NCO 

PME conference with Chief [CMSAF #9 Jim] Binnicker. We were at Air 

University discussing PME policy issues of the day, and Chief Binnicker 

asked us where we thought NCO PME should be in the year 2000.

We went off to discuss the question. I was in the group led by 

Chief Tom Nurre, commandant of the Electronic Security Command NCO 

Academy at Goodfellow AFB [Texas]—later he became the chief of Air Force 

NCO PME Policy in the Pentagon. Our recommendation was to streamline 

the program by matching the PME levels to the three enlisted tiers—Airmen, 

NCO, and SNCO. We previously had a lot of overlap—especially at the NCO 

Leadership School and NCO Academy levels.

The proposed template later included other Year of Training 

initiatives that were implemented during Chief [CMSAF #10 Gary] 

Pfingston’s tour. The idea then was to train young Airmen at technical 

training, have senior airmen attend the Airman Leadership School, and 

send staff sergeants back to resident 7-level training schools. Technical 

sergeants would attend the NCO Academy while master sergeants would go 

back for 9-level training and begin attending the Senior NCO Academy.

We thought the money saved by eliminating NCO leadership 

schools could help fund TDY [temporary duty] to school for resident 7-level 

training. Initially, we wanted to do this training for all AFSCs. It just didn’t 

turn out that way.

Fundamental questions in the development stage were: should we 

model the Airman Leadership School [ALS] after the NCO Leadership 

School or after the NCO Preparatory Course? Also, should students live 

in dorms on campus or just attend in a resident status if they lived locally? 

Those were big questions. Some NCO leadership schools already had 

dorms for their students and felt strongly about the benefits of in-residence 

PME. TAC had spent years creating live-in NCO leadership schools at all 

their installations. MAC [Military Airlift Command] and SAC [Strategic 

Air Command] had regional schools run by the numbered Air Forces. If 

the ALS was to replace NCO leadership schools, would the MAJCOMs still 

own them and who would pay for the TDY to school costs? Also, it might 

require significant MILCON [military construction] funds to build more 

dorms. If, however, we made the ALS a base-level program to replace the 

NCO Preparatory Course, we could use the existing classrooms and have 

AU develop the program. As you know, we opted to make the ALS a baselevel program. However, TAC and later ACC took control of their Airman 

leadership schools and kept them in resident programs since they had 

existing dorms attached to their PME facilities. I believe they were the only 

MAJCOM to have in-residence classes throughout the 1990s.

We had to name this new PME program. As a joke, I 

recommended calling it the “Airmen Supervisory School.” I knew it 

was a nonstarter since we then had the option to wear fatigues with 

ballcaps that included our organization acronyms—and “A-S-S” just 

wouldn’t work! [Laughter]

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Quota management was another challenge for the PME program 

in the 1980s and early 1990s. Since the NCO academies and NCO 

leadership schools were owned and operated by the individual MAJCOMs, 

they controlled production and wanted a voice on who attended their 

respective schools. TAC had NCO academies at Tyndall [AFB, Florida] 

and Bergstrom [AFB, Texas]. SAC had schools at Barksdale [AFB, 

Louisiana] and March [AFB, California], MAC had an east coast academy 

at McGuire [AFB, New Jersey] and a west coast school at Norton [AFB, 

California]. The ATC schoolhouse was at Lackland [AFB, Texas], and 

Air Force Communications Command [AFCC] had their NCO academy 

at Keesler [AFB, Mississippi]. In all, there were 18 NCO academies run 

by 15 separate MAJCOMs. To save TDY dollars, we used to have annual 

quota sharing conferences, where MAJCOM reps would offer seats at 

their schools in exchange for obtaining seats at other MAJCOM schools. 

Unfortunately, some commands were a little parochial, while others 

wanted to better leverage the money they were spending on enlisted PME. 

TAC wanted a large percentage of their seats at Tyndall and Bergstrom 

filled by TAC students. SAC had lots of people assigned in the Northeast, 

but their schools were in Louisiana and California. It was much cheaper 

to send SAC students from Plattsburg AFB, New York, or Loring AFB, 

Maine, to the McGuire NCO academy—but MAC had to be willing to share 

their seats. We also faced continual audits for overflying schools. ATC 

would often send their Keesler students in Mississippi back to Lackland 

in San Antonio, while AFCC would send their Kelly AFB students in San 

Antonio to the Keesler NCO academy. In effect, students from different 

MAJCOMs would pass each other on Interstate 10. Something had to 

be done. In the early ’90s we moved from a quota sharing system to an 

automated quota distribution system, where we, at AFMPC, distributed 

annual PME school seats based on student location regardless of which 

command owned the students.

Unfortunately, receiving a quota at a given school didn’t force the 

MAJCOMs to fill them as intended, since they were not by-name quotas, 

and overflying persisted. Consequently, the Air Force stepped in and 

gave all the CONUS [continental United States] NCO academies to Air 

University in 1993. It was the beginning of the College for Enlisted PME, 

or CEPME as it was called. Another benefit of standing up the college 

was it consolidated NCO academy curriculum development and course 

policies at Air University. I recall asking CMSAF Pfingston, when he was 

in the seat, why CEPME didn’t include the overseas NCO academies. 

He replied, “Overflying is a CONUS problem only. There is no need to 

take the schools away from the overseas MAJCOMs.” If you fast-forward 

20 years, the Barnes Center now manages all enlisted PME, and they 

inherited CCAF [Community College of the Air Force] along the way. 

Enlisted education is now under one umbrella. We have come a long way 

in a short time.

One last question on PME, if I could. Looking back, 

you’ve seen it evolve and you’ve seen the true effect. 

How important is PME to the enlisted force?

PME is important because it helps us focus on leadership, human 

relations, and personal development, but it is only part of the professional 

development equation. For years, it was assumed if we attended PME we 

were ready to go out and conquer the world. The truth is we all are simply the 

sum of our experiences. PME is certainly part of professional development, 

but assignments we’ve had, the organizations we’ve joined, and the colleges 

or other courses we have attended all help make us who we are.

There has nearly always been some vocal group advocating to 

provide PME earlier. I am not a strong proponent, since earlier is not always 

better. We should give people the education, experiences, and exposure to 

issues when it will benefit them the most—typically just before they assume 

new roles and responsibilities. The fundamental questions are: when will 

roles change during a typical career path, and how should we deliberately 

prepare people to fill those roles? 

Senior airman to staff sergeant is a major transition. During this 

period, we ask people to become noncommissioned officers and move from 

being responsible solely for themselves to assuming responsibility for the 

actions of others. While promotion to technical sergeant typically moves 

NCOs from a working team leader role to becoming a leader of multiple 

teams, the expectations are closely related to those we have for first-line 

supervisors. However, expectations change again upon promotion to 

master sergeant. Not only are they senior NCOs, but they are often tasked to 

manage entire shops. We also ask them to think more operationally. There 

is a significant expectation shift from my perspective. We owe them new 

skill sets and exposure to the new issues they will face. The same holds true 

for promotion to chief master sergeant. I believe the transition from senior 

master sergeant to chief is much more challenging than the transition from 

master sergeant to senior master sergeant. We expect chiefs to think more 

strategically and be experts on virtually everything in the Air Force.

When roles change, ideally we should help people just prior to 

the transition. It doesn’t work as well if the timing is off. For example, 

preparing someone in 2015 for a role they won’t assume until 2020 is 

virtually worthless because they may not remember the lessons or we may 

not be the same Air Force by then. It should be just-in-time training. When 

and what are both important. However, there are lots of delivery methods 

suitable for preparing people. No doubt, some lessons are better learned via 

one method over another, but I don’t get caught up in whether something 

is designed for a classroom setting, interactive online, or experiential. The 

how is less important, since there are lots of ways to get there from here.

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You left the PME world—

Not by choice [laughter]. However, this is probably a good time 

to add that PME is only part of the deliberate development process. Other 

initiatives like local NCO and senior NCO professional development 

seminars leverage the expertise of senior NCOs at every base.

Also, first term Airmen centers, or FTACs, help smooth the 

transition into the operational Air Force so Airmen can have a productive 

start. The FTAC concept began at Offutt AFB [Nebraska] in the mid1990s while I was assigned at ACC. It was a great idea to build friendships, 

solve the base detail challenge, and help Airmen during one of their most 

trying times—moving to their first duty station. It’s normal to feel like 

an outsider when everyone else has an established routine and you are 

still trying to get out of the starting blocks. FTACs connect Airmen with 

others in a similar situation and help them learn about the local support 

network available.

We expanded FTACs throughout ACC, and by the late90s, pushed to make it an Air Force program. Thankfully, it still 

operates today.

 You were plucked up because General [Joseph W.] 

Ralston wanted you to be his senior enlisted advisor 

at Eleventh Air Force.5

It actually surprised me. To this day, I’m not exactly sure why he 

selected me. When I arrived at Elmendorf AFB [Alaska], I was the junior 

of 62 chiefs on the base and the new NCO academy commandant. In 

fact, that was the only Air Force job [in which] I ever began feeling very 

confident. I had taught at a PME center for a few years, so I understood 

the teaching part. I had developed curriculum and had relationships at Air 

University. I had worked operations and PME policy issues at AFMPC; so, 

I had a good handle on program intent and what we could waive in certain 

circumstances. And, I had a fair understanding of the manning and budget 

piece. It might be a little cocky to say, but I thought I knew as much about 

PME as the other NCO academy commandants and most likely more 

than anyone on the faculty at my new school. By the way, we had a great 

team of talented instructors in Alaska who collectively made significant 

improvements to the PME program and taught me a few lessons about 

how to be a successful leader.

A year into my NCO academy tour, I was pulled out to become the 

senior enlisted advisor for Eleventh Air Force. Thankfully, I wasn’t fired. 

However, I was just getting started as a chief and hadn’t considered what 

other jobs might be available to me.

 What did you think your role was as the senior 

enlisted advisor? It was a completely different shift 

for you. Were you ready for that role?

Initially, I didn’t know everything the role included. There was no 

formal training—although I did attend the SEA orientation a few months into 

the job. I knew some SEAs but didn’t have a good feel for what their day-today responsibilities were since I had been pretty removed from that group. 

It’s like looking at the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force role from the 

outside. To some it may appear easy and exciting. However, the closer you 

are to the position, the less awe there is. You tend to see everything the job 

entails and the level of effort required.

In Alaska, we had a fighter wing at Eielson AFB with a senior 

enlisted advisor who was making things happen up north. The 3rd Wing 

at Elmendorf was a large organization with lots of different aircraft and 

missions. The senior enlisted advisor there had a good handle on the issues 

and didn’t need me inserting myself into wing business. We also had an air 

control wing senior enlisted advisor who worked mostly remote site issues 

in Alaska. My goal was to figure out how to get all three of them to march 

down a similar path as we moved forward—while keeping my boss informed 

on enlisted issues in the field.

I didn’t feel overly challenged once I learned the expectations of my 

new role. It was a relatively small numbered Air Force, with only three wings 

and no deployment taskings at the time. I worked primarily on helping 

develop solid relationships with our local community partners and visiting 

Airmen at remote sites as often as I could. We still had a significant number 

of Airmen serving remote tours during my time in Alaska. We had about 

300 at both King Salmon and Galena Air Stations. Eareckson AS, on the 

island of Shemya, had about 600 Airmen. Shemya is the next to last island at 

the end of the Aleutian chain—a long way from Anchorage.

They had some unique challenges at the remote sites, since they 

had to be self-sufficient at virtually everything. There were no stores outside 

the main gate . . . or even a main gate at Eareckson. Thankfully, mission 

changes after the Cold War allowed us to place contractors at these sites and 

eliminate the one-year tours for about 1,200 Airmen. They were the last of 

Alaska’s remote assignments which ended during the ’94–’95 timeframe.

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The SEA tour in Alaska was my first. It gave me some exposure to 

working for general officers. I’m not sure I ever told General Ralston how 

much I appreciated him. He taught me many things, both at Eleventh Air 

Force and later at Air Combat Command. Although our tours together 

were much shorter than anticipated, it was easy to stay in step with him 

since we tended to agree on all the important issues. He was a great 

boss who always supported me and forgave my mistakes. I was fortunate 

to work for both him and General [Lawrence] Boese during my Alaska 

tour. I also learned many leadership lessons from General Boese. He 

inherited me at Eleventh Air Force, and I’m thankful he kept me on his 

team. Similarly, General [Richard] Hawley inherited me at ACC. He was a 

brilliant leader who valued the time of others, especially those on the staff. 

He championed many issues and helped me think more strategically. We 

inducted him onto the Order of the Sword before he retired.

You were actually at ACC when we began to change 

to more of an expeditionary force, and ACC led that 

initiative. Can you comment on why that was an 

important shift for the Air Force?

There were many things going on at the time, but you’re right, 

we were becoming expeditionary. It’s not that we wanted to, but America 

needed us to change. Most Airmen of the time were used to serving in 

a garrison force. Although we had some battlefield Airmen, we typically 

sent our pilots out to fight, while the rest of us stayed back at the home 

base in maintenance and support roles. The airlift community was TDY 

all the time, but they were the exception. There were some who believed 

six-month deployments were for Sailors, not Airmen. The Navy went to 

sea on six- to nine-month cruises—the Air Force never deployed. We built 

major bases across Europe to support NATO and brought our families 

with us on three-year tours. We knew who and where our enemy was, and 

we put our resources there.

However, soon after the collapse of the Soviet Union, the world 

started changing. We were facing the reality we couldn’t always predict 

where the next military threat was going to emerge. This made it difficult 

to have the required infrastructure in the right places to operate as we had 

for decades. We also couldn’t afford to operate major bases everywhere 

around the world. We didn’t have the aircraft, people, or resources to 

make it work—unless we became expeditionary. We could, however, 

stand up temporary bases virtually anywhere by borrowing people and 

assets from multiple CONUS locations.

I arrived at ACC a few years after Desert Storm. At the time, 

ACC had been providing forces to support Operation Southern Watch. 

Unfortunately, they seemed to be doing more than their fair share. For 

the rest of the Air Force, it was business as usual. F-15 squadrons from 

Langley [AFB, Virginia] and Eglin [AFB, Florida] were rotating in and 

out of the theater, while other F-15 squadrons in Alaska and elsewhere 

had virtually no deployment taskings. Some units were being overstressed, 

while others had no way into the fight. We needed to bring the entire Air 

Force into the game.

ACC took the lead in setting up an Air Expeditionary Center. Of 

course, standing up a center to manage deployment taskings was easier than 

changing the mentality of Airmen who grew up in the Cold War era. Many 

had no desire to leave their families and deploy to Southwest Asia for four 

months to a year at a time.

I was responsible to help manage first sergeant deployment taskings 

within ACC. Unfortunately, I often had to task non-volunteers who were 

unhappy and/or unwilling to deploy. Some even offered to turn in their 

diamonds rather than deploy for four months. They were happy to serve in 

our Air Force but had no expectation to leave their families for months at a 

time. Consequently, we needed to change the expectations of Air Force life 

for future generations of Airmen.

I recall participating in a biennial review of basic military training, 

BMT, during Chief [CMSAF #11 Dave] Campanale’s watch. BMT had 

historically done an amazing job of transitioning civilians into Airmen and 

preparing them for technical training. However, we found Airmen at BMT 

didn’t know much about life in the operational commands of our Air Force. 

They didn’t know about deployments or frankly what the Air Force would 

expect of them in the years to come. 

Consequently, the MAJCOM command chiefs agreed to send BMT 

some videos about operational missions in our respective commands. The 

idea was BMT would play these videos while trainees were waiting in line 

or during short periods of down time. And, exposure to these videos would 

ultimately provide a clearer picture about serving in the Air Force.

We also needed to change expectations and grow expeditionary mindsets in our youngest Airmen. Over the next few years, this idea blossomed 

into Warrior Week. Later, after I retired, it was renamed The BEAST. As 

I recall, this fundamental shift in focus was popular in both the MTI and 

trainee communities.

In today’s environment, people expect to deploy. Almost every 

AFSC has a deployment tasking. It doesn’t make any difference where you 

are assigned. Airmen have much different expectations than we had just 

20 years ago. In 1995 we were a much different Air Force. Compare the 

number of ribbons current Airmen wear to those worn by Airmen from other 

service periods. You can see far more Airmen today have been involved in 

multiple contingency operations. Deployments are normal business for 

those currently serving.

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You can really trace today’s expeditionary Air Force 

back to that time—

You’re right. Although we have been continually evolving as 

an Air Force, some ideas implemented during this period have had 

a significant and lasting impact on our Air Force. One was making the 

term Airman special to trainees. By withholding the label until trainees 

completed Warrior Week along with presenting them an Airman’s coin to 

commemorate the occasion, transitioning from trainee to Airman became 

a valued experience.

I had the distinct honor of presenting the very first Airman’s 

coin to the first flight of BMT trainees completing Warrior Week. This 

occurred in September 1999, soon after I became the CMSAF. I am 

extremely proud of this experience and cherish receiving one of the very 

first Airman coins minted. It holds a special place in my coin collection.

Can you talk a little more about Warrior Week?

Sure. The leadership and MTIs at basic military training began 

working this initiative during Chief [CMSAF #12 Eric W.] Benken’s tour. 

They reorganized training objectives and moved all week five training to a 

tent city. The intent was to provide trainees an experience like what they 

might later experience in a deployed environment. We called it Warrior 

Week. It also had a culminating event at the end of the week—typically a 

retreat ceremony with a keynote speaker.

Trainees could not claim the title Airman until completing this 

training and receiving their coin. Also, they weren’t allowed to wear a blue 

uniform until after Warrior Week. Completion was a rite of passage, like 

stepping over a line in the sand. You and I may not pay much attention 

to the value of a week in our careers. However, I suspect those trainees 

felt like they finally arrived when they joined the ranks of Airmen. People 

tend to value whatever the institution or leaders make important. BMT 

curriculum has evolved since then, but I’m glad we still make a big deal out 

of becoming an Airman.

 In the late 1990s, right as you became the Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force, the Air Force 

faced recruiting challenges. You took some action 

to improve that. Can you comment on what we did and 

how it affected the Air Force?

Until 1999 the Air Force had always met its annual recruiting 

goal. We didn’t focus on it much or spend funds on national television 

ads. Typically, the only time you saw the Air Force on TV was during 

some public service announcement late at night. However, when we 

didn’t make our recruiting goal in 1999, it was like a splash of cold water 

in our faces. It had our attention. This was a problem that required our 

immediate focus.

Our new undersecretary of the Air Force, Carol DiBattiste, came on 

board in 1999. She had once been an Air Force recruiter, and I remembered 

her from our LMDC assignment together in the mid-’80s when she worked 

at the JAG [Judge Advocate General] school. She was a great leader and 

friend who became a champion for recruiting issues.

My direct role in helping the recruiting effort was to travel in uniform 

as often as possible and to provide the voice for the original commercials. 

The tag line then was “America’s Air Force. No One Comes Close.” We 

stopped using this line in 2001. Frankly, it didn’t fit after the tragic events 

on 9/11.

In addition to establishing a significant recruiting campaign, we also 

believed we needed more recruiters on the street to solve this challenge. 

We began to focus on ways to incentivize recruiting without breaking other 

Air Force programs. We didn’t want to make recruiting duty more lucrative 

than other special duty positions, break faith in our promotion system, or 

alienate recruiters within the enlisted force.

Our method of manning this special duty had been to only seek 

volunteers. We had recruit the recruiter teams who traveled around enticing 

Airmen to volunteer. I questioned why we waited for volunteers, because I 

didn’t recall volunteering for any job from the time I was a staff sergeant. All 

my assignments began by someone asking, suggesting, or directing I move 

to a new position. I was always a willing participant—but never a volunteer.

I don’t believe the recruiting community was initially excited with 

non-volunteer assignments into recruiting duty, but we started discussing 

ways to identify our best and brightest for this duty. Recruiters were the face 

of the Air Force, and in many communities, the only face. It was vital we select 

the right people. We also wanted mature NCOs with Air Force experience, 

since they might be out there virtually on their own. Our solution—identify 

and select people without waiting for them to volunteer.

A quick story from that timeframe—I remember receiving an 

e-mail from a staff sergeant at Robins AFB, Georgia. He said, “I’m a 

maintainer and I love my job. However, I was just tagged as a nonvolunteer to attend recruiting school. I don’t want to be an Air Force 

recruiter and am willing to go anywhere you want to send me so long 

as it’s in maintenance. Everyone in my chain of command has tried to 

get me out of this duty, and no one can. You are my last hope. I’m slated 

to start recruiting school in about 10 days. Please help.”

It wasn’t unusual to receive correspondence from someone 

unhappy about a specific Air Force program or assignment. However, 

something troubled me about this note. I knew we wanted some of our 

best NCOs to become recruiters. However, he indicated his chain of 

command had unsuccessfully tried to have him removed from the list. 

It started raising a question in my mind—had we made a mistake?

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I asked the folks in my office to track down the contact information 

for this NCO’s shop chief or immediate supervisor. Shortly after, I had a 

name and phone number for the master sergeant who ran that shop. So, 

I rang him up. He seemed a bit caught off guard to receive a call directly 

from the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force in the Pentagon. We 

talked for a few minutes, and I shared my concern about the statement 

indicating everyone had tried to get this NCO off the recruiting duty list. 

He replied, “Yeah, he doesn’t want to be a recruiter, and we have been 

trying to support him.” I followed up with, “Are we making a mistake 

sending him to recruiting school?” He replied, “Actually, Chief, this 

young staff sergeant will make a great recruiter. He is the type of guy who 

will be successful anywhere you put him. He just doesn’t want to do this.”

I then said, “Well, we need great people to represent maintenance 

in recruiting duty. If he’s truly an outstanding NCO, he’s going to be a 

great recruiter for the next few years. I’m not going to help him avoid 

recruiting school. Please tell him I received his letter and that you and I 

have talked.”

I also called the recruiting school when he started and asked to be 

kept in the loop on his progress. I just wanted periodic updates—which 

they provided until he graduated. After that, he fell off my radar.

About six months later I visited Robins AFB. Frankly, I had 

forgotten about this NCO and the recruiting concern he had. One of the 

stops during my visit was at a maintenance hangar with about 25 NCOs 

lined up. Everyone wore BDUs [battle dress uniform] except one staff 

sergeant who wore a blue service uniform. Although he stood out in 

the sea of green, I didn’t think it odd. I had no idea who he was—just a 

staff sergeant in blues. I started moving down the line shaking hands and 

saying hello. When I asked him what he did for our Air Force, he informed 

me he was no longer assigned to the maintenance squadron at Robins. 

He then said, “I heard you were visiting and wanted to meet you. I’m a 

recruiter stationed about 100 miles from here. I sent you an e-mail a few 

months ago asking for your help to get me out of recruiting duty—but you 

wouldn’t help me.” It was then I realized he was the young staff sergeant 

from six months ago. I asked him how things were going—not sure which 

direction the conversation would go. And, he replied, “I just want to say 

thanks. I didn’t know it would be this much fun.”

It reinforced for me that we have great Airmen. They want to be 

led and to be told what’s important. They want us to take care of them in 

a reasonable way and to appreciate what they do. You can ask them to do 

virtually anything, and they will step up.

Was he successful?

As far as I know—I never saw him again. He was a sharp NCO. I 

suspect he had a stellar recruiting tour and went on to become a great senior 

enlisted leader.

That’s a great story. You were also the Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force on 11 September 2001.

Unfortunately, yes.

Everybody remembers where they were, and I’m sure 

you do too. Can you tell us about that day for you?

September 11th, 2001, was a Tuesday. Back then, Tuesday 

mornings included our weekly staff meeting with the Air Force’s secretary, 

chief, and senior leadership staff at the Pentagon. Since the Air Force had 

recently changed chiefs of staff, this was General [John P.] Jumper’s first 

staff meeting as our new chief. We held these meetings in a secure area of 

the Pentagon. The day began like any other Tuesday.

We were in the middle of the meeting when someone came in to 

interrupt with news that a plane had just flown into the World Trade Center 

in New York City. The big screen switched over to either CNN or Fox News 

to provide us live updates. We didn’t know what type of aircraft it was at the 

time or whether this was intentional or an accident. I was sitting next to [Brig 

Gen James M.] Shamess, who was our Air Force’s top cop back then, when 

we watched live as a commercial airliner flew into the second tower. General 

Shamess commented something to the effect, “Well, that was intentional. It 

looks like we have just been attacked.” Like most Americans, we were glued 

to the news. It was surreal. We knew it was intentional and very bad, but 

we had no clue how the day would unfold. I didn’t think much beyond the 

moment. I couldn’t wait to return to my office and didn’t know if any of my 

staff had heard or seen this bizarre news.

Shortly after, we concluded the meeting, and I beat feet to my office 

on the fourth floor. The staff was already glued to the TV in my office, as 

news outlets continuously replayed the attack.

At 9:30 I knew I had to depart. I had an editorial board slated 

with the Air Force Times set for 10:00 at the Military Times building in 

Alexandria, Virginia. And it would take 20 to 30 minutes to drive there. 

Keep in mind, the CMSAF office was on the ninth corridor of the fourth 

floor, and it typically took more than five minutes to walk to the Pentagon’s 

river entrance on the first floor.

I turned to my public affairs NCO, Beth Alber, and said, “Grab your 

service dress. We have to go.” As we departed the building, I remember 

telling Beth it was probably not a good day to be in the Pentagon with all the 

crazy stuff going on. We had no idea what was about to happen.

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We walked to my car that was parked in the river entrance parking 

lot just outside the Pentagon, hopped in the car, and drove out through 

security towards I-395 South. As we drove around the south side of the 

Pentagon, the plane crashed into the north side. It was literally seconds 

after we departed. By the time we reached the hill, near where the Air 

Force Memorial is now located, I could see the Pentagon in the rearview 

mirror along with the fire and black smoke beginning to emerge above the 

back side of the building.

I said to Beth, “Hey turn around—quick, turn around. There’s 

something going on back there.” We didn’t see the plane but knew 

something had happened. Beth suggested they might just be holding 

fire drills or training. But, we dismissed the thought as unlikely given 

the earlier events of the day. So, I turned on the radio hoping for some 

news. About a minute or so later, someone broke in over the airwaves to 

announce that a commercial airliner had just flown into the Pentagon. 

We had just learned about the attacks on the World Trade Center that 

morning, and now this. It seemed almost unbelievable. 

I remember pulling off the road immediately to call the office 

on my cell phone. Nobody answered. We didn’t know if no one picked 

up the phone because they had been killed or if they had just evacuated. 

The Pentagon is a big building, and it would be standard procedure to 

evacuate immediately. My very first thought was about how lucky we 

were to have left the building before the attack. But that thought lasted 

about a nanosecond. Then it switched to worrying about all the people we 

just left.

I-395 North was already a parking lot because of the typical rush 

hour traffic that time of day. And, compounding the bumper-to-bumper 

traffic we saw was our realization that emergency responders would 

close any access to the Pentagon before we could return. There was 

simply no way to get back. Our only alternative was to drive down to the 

Military Times. 

While we were on the shoulder of I-395, I also called my house to 

speak with my wife, Pat. I wanted her to know I was okay, since she would 

assume I was in the building when it was hit. She didn’t answer the house 

phone so I left a voicemail message to turn on the TV. I told her I was 

fine but something had happened at the Pentagon and in New York City. 

I would talk with her later.

Once I hung up from that call, cell phone service was gone. 

I couldn’t get through to anyone. So, we drove to the Military Times 

building. Fortunately, they knew about the tragic events of the morning 

and understood we would have no editorial board that day. They were nice 

and offered me their landline phones to attempt to contact my colleagues. 

I tried using their phone but couldn’t reach anyone.

We knew we had few options at that point. We couldn’t return to 

the Pentagon. We couldn’t reach anyone to find out what was happening. 

There was a good chance Washington, DC, would shut down and they 

would close the I-495 beltway making it virtually impossible for me to get 

home to Andrews AFB. Beth lived just north of Fredericksburg in Stafford, 

Virginia. So, I drove Beth home.

We watched the news at Beth’s house for a few minutes, seeking 

updates. Then I decided I would try to drive to Andrews using the southern 

Maryland route. It was the long way around, but it would probably be the 

quickest route. The only news available was from the car radio. I recall 

hanging on every word as I drove north. Along the way, I learned World Trade 

Center Tower 1 had collapsed. Then, the second tower also collapsed. I also 

learned United Flight 93 had been hijacked and crashed in Pennsylvania. 

There were lots of bad things happening, and I was unsure when it would 

end. My immediate focus was on getting home to my family.

Around 12:15 I received a call from Pat to tell me everyone in my 

office had made it out of the Pentagon alive. I also learned SMSgt Mike 

Gilbert, our first sergeant functional leader, was flying to Montgomery that 

morning but had landed in Charlotte, North Carolina, and was okay. That 

was the first good news I had received all day.

I arrived outside of the Andrews main gate around 12:30. Pat had 

gone off the base to pick up our youngest son, Brian, from school. I waved 

as I passed them on the road near the base. Ultimately, I ended up stuck 

in traffic just north of the gate. However, I was only four or five cars back 

from the intersection and thought it would be just a few minutes to enter 

the base. There was another line of cars, over a mile long, trying to enter the 

base from the south. I sat there for nearly two hours waiting for my turn to 

enter. The Prince George’s County police were directing traffic, but things 

were slow since our security forces were searching each car coming through 

the gate. Keep in mind President [George W.] Bush was slated to return to 

Andrews later that day on Air Force One.

Frustrated, I exited my car and walked up to the police officer 

directly traffic. I was in uniform and said, “I’m the Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force. I was in the Pentagon this morning. I live on Andrews, and 

I need to get on this base. I’m willing to wait my turn, but I’ve been here 

for a couple of hours, and you haven’t let anybody from my line through.” 

He replied, “Well, just bring your car up here and I will put you in the next 

available slot.” Frankly, I no longer cared about who else might have been 

ahead of me in line. I drove up to the middle of the intersection, and shortly 

after, he waved me through to the two short lines of cars waiting to enter 

the base gate.

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As soon as the Air Force Security Forces saw me, they came 

out from the gate area and instructed everyone to move their cars to the 

outside of the respective lanes. It was like the parting of the Red Sea! Our 

defenders then escorted me down the center of the road to the gate. They 

said, “Chief, we have to let the dogs go through your car.” And, I said, 

“You betcha.” I was happy to be the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air 

Force that day. Pat and Brian made it home a couple of hours later.

Once home, I contacted the Air Force staff working in our ops 

center at the Pentagon and passed along that everyone in my office had 

survived the attack. They were still working on the process to account for 

everyone. I was told [Secretary of Defense Donald] Rumsfeld wanted us 

all to report for work the next day—it sent an important message that those 

who attacked us did not take us down.

My colleague, Chief Dawn Rich, and I drove together to the 

Pentagon the next morning. When we arrived, the Arlington and other 

firefighters were still on the roof fighting the fire. No doubt, they had been 

there all night. The building reeked of jet fuel, and black soot covered 

everything. Our office was on the side of the building opposite the crash 

site. We were issued protective masks and could write our names on the 

office walls because the soot was that thick.

Over the next week to 10 days, the parking lot became transformed 

into an operational staging area. What began as search and rescue sadly 

became a tedious recovery-and-investigative operation. Volunteers from 

around the country showed up to share their talents. Local businesses 

set up shop to provide their services free of charge. I recall a day spa 

brought in equipment and offered massages. Donated food and fuel 

just arrived. That period included the worst day of my Air Force career, 

followed by some of the most memorable days. I met some wonderful and 

talented people, some in uniform and some not, but all gave of themselves 

expecting nothing in return. I will forever remember the events of that 

period. For example, Jack Tilley, the Sergeant Major of the Army, and I 

met with some Soldiers who wanted to hang a large American flag from the 

top of the Pentagon. They asked us how it should hang so we instructed 

them on proper flag protocol. Little did we know that flag would become 

part of an iconic photo of the Pentagon attack and a symbol of our national 

resolve. Jack and I still speak of that event. Like everyone else who 

experienced September 11th, 2001, we knew exactly where we were, and 

the surrounding events are permanently imprinted in our memories.

I had no idea how much the world would change based on the 

attacks that day. September 11, 2001, was certainly a tragic day in our 

American history. However, I also made new friends and took away 

some positive memories from that period. I learned about the amazing 

capabilities and patriots we have in America. I also felt pride in the 

willingness of people from all walks of life to come together in support of 

a single cause—it was a new feeling I hoped would last.

Certainly. Obviously, that day shifted the way we 

looked at the world, and the way our Air Force 

operated specifically. Do you think we were ready 

for that shift?

From my perspective, we had already become expeditionary. 

Many in America, including some in our sister-services, tend to speak of 

deployments and our war on terror as if it all began in 2001 after 9/11. They 

use Operation Enduring Freedom as the starting point. However, Airmen 

have been deployed since Desert Storm in 1991. The terror attacks on the 

USS Cole, Khobar Towers, and elsewhere are reminders that America’s 

war on terror began long before 9/11. Our Air Force was engaged daily in 

Southwest Asia, supporting both Operations Southern Watch and Northern 

Watch. We never left. While some bases and missions have changed over 

the years, we became expeditionary almost 10 years before 9/11.

Deployment locations and expectations both have changed 

considerably since I retired. Many bases the Air Force operates from today 

didn’t exist while I was serving. We were standing up Prince Sultan AB in 

Saudi Arabia and building bases in Kuwait during my time. I recall visiting 

Al Udeid in Qatar when there were no aircraft assigned. It was still in the 

early stages of construction. Also, the roles and expectations of enlisted 

Airmen have changed a little as well. We now have more battlefield Airmen 

and others working outside the wire. We should be very proud of ourselves 

and what Airmen contribute.

Yes. Looking back and thinking about where we 

have come, did you ever think we would be where 

we are today?

This is a tough question. It’s much clearer looking back than 

forward, since hindsight tends to be 20/20. When thinking about some of 

today’s older veterans or Air Force retirees, I believe it’s challenging for 

many who served during Korea, Vietnam, or only in the Cold War to relate 

to the expectations expeditionary Airmen face today. Forty-five years of an 

all-volunteer force coupled with 25 years engaged in the Southwest Asia 

AOR [area of responsibility] have shaped America’s expectation of war. It 

has also become a filter for the view we have of ourselves as Airmen. The 

more important questions are what will America ask of our Air Force in 

the future and how can we best prepare the next generation of Airmen for 

an uncertain tomorrow? What values and expectations do current senior 

enlisted leaders consider important as they groom tomorrow’s Airmen?

I served the first half of my career during the Cold War. Early on, 

we had monthly mobility exercises and trained for NBC [nuclear, biological, 

and chemical] attacks. However, we never actually went anywhere, and I was 

a bit naïve doubting anyone would ever attack us at home during my lifetime. 

It was a relatively stable period. Then the world changed. 

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The Soviet Union collapsed, and the Cold War ended. We 

began to draw down our military because America wanted a peace 

dividend. However, peace didn’t last long. When Iraq invaded Kuwait, 

we responded with Desert Shield and Desert Storm. It was a first largescale force mobilization in a couple of decades, and Airmen have been 

deploying to that theater ever since.

The Air Force I experienced in the 1980s focused on training and 

development. Thankfully, professional development translated to new 

opportunities for senior NCOs as we took on roles previously reserved 

for commissioned officers. However, most of us didn’t deploy and rarely 

went TDY except to school. This changed when I moved to Air Combat 

Command in the mid-’90s as the senior enlisted advisor and, later, 

command chief master sergeant.

When I arrived at ACC, we were still in the early stages of 

becoming expeditionary. My TDY schedule jumped to nearly 200 days 

a year visiting ACC units. I began to see a completely different side of 

our Air Force. The operational tempo was picking up, and Airmen were 

stepping up to the challenge. Unfortunately, some mission areas had a 

mismatch between resources and tasks. We called them “low-density, 

high-demand” assets and asked a lot of the Airmen and their families 

working in those areas. There were numerous challenges and sacrifices 

as families adjusted to extended deployments. It was a busy time, but I 

enjoyed visiting Airmen, listening to their concerns, and advocating on 

their behalf. It was also my first opportunity to work in a joint environment 

with our sister-service colleagues.

It will be interesting to see how 25 years fighting in Southwest 

Asia will impact the expectations future leaders have of Airmen. I served 

during a period of transition—both Cold War and expeditionary. However, 

virtually everyone serving today only knows an Air Force actively engaged 

around the world. They have a unique perspective on what constitutes 

important work.

During your tenure as the Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force, and after, what have you learned 

about the impact that position can have?

The CMSAF position has evolved during the past 50 years. We 

are a much different Air Force than we were in 1967 when Chief [CMSAF 

#1 Paul] Airey stepped into the position. Changes along the journey 

may have seemed relatively small at the time. However, I’m confident 

Chief Airey would agree the role, expectations, and status have changed 

immensely. Also, challenges Chief [CMSAF #17 Jim] Cody faces today 

are considerably different—even from those of my time 15 years ago. This 

is not to say the challenges are harder or easier today—just different.

Over the years, I have listened to virtually all the former CMSAFs as 

they told stories about their respective times in the Pentagon. Sadly, I have 

no CMSAF [CMSAF #3 Dick] Kisling stories, since I only briefly met him 

once in the early ’80s—a couple of years before he passed away.

The role has changed over time. I’ve been told the CMSAF position 

was not universally accepted in the beginning. It was new and not clearly 

defined. I’ve also heard there were general officers and others who didn’t 

think it was necessary or appropriate for the Air Force to have a chief master 

sergeant working directly for the chief of staff. In contrast, there are no 

Air Force senior leaders currently on active duty who served during a time 

without a Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. I believe each CMSAF 

along the way stepped up to fill the role expected of them during their time. 

Each had his issues of the day.

The role I had, or lane I tried to stay within, was a balancing act. 

I traveled extensively to connect with Airmen. I represented the Air 

Force, as appropriate, to the American public and to leaders in all levels 

of government. I coordinated policy recommendations when asked and 

typically commented on virtually anything affecting our enlisted force.

We didn’t call it the EBOD [Enlisted Board of Directors] then, but 

I worked with the MAJCOM command chiefs to set the tone and direction 

for our enlisted force. We also created some deliberate development 

initiatives as part of the “Developing Aerospace Leaders” program that set 

the foundation for today’s “Enlisted Force Development” focus.

Whenever I was in Washington, DC, it seemed my dance card was 

always full with boards, meetings, or office calls. I tried to spend about 

eight days in the Pentagon each month. Too many days and the force 

might feel I was disconnected. Too few and my ability to help work issues 

affecting Airmen would be limited since staffers would just go around me 

without input.

The Air Force had already transitioned to e-mails and were 

beginning to process all staff work electronically. Consequently, I was 

expected to coordinate daily on staff packages for policy issues en route 

to the Chief of Staff of the Air Force and Secretary of the Air Force. If I 

was out on a base visit, the staff work began after my last event of the day. 

The good news is we had electronic records of virtually everything; so, we 

pretty much solved the decades-old concern about no written history of 

enlisted contributions.

The protocol status for the CMSAF and sister-service equivalents 

changed from DV-8 to DV-4 status in the middle of my tour.6

 My sisterservice colleagues and I had mentioned in a meeting with the JCS [Joint 

Chiefs of Staff] chairman that there was a disparity between how the various 

services treated us at joint events. However, we were collectively unaware 

of any OSD [Office of the Secretary of Defense] initiative to change our 

protocol status until after the policy change was announced.

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I believe the pace of operations and some of the challenges are 

more demanding today. I was exposed to electronic staff work, but I didn’t 

have to deal with social media issues. My big challenge was to ignore 

disparaging e-mail traffic and dispel rumors shared by those with only part 

of the facts. Today, Airmen have instant access to information on smart 

phones. They freely share their views on virtually everything via Twitter 

and Facebook. There are others with an axe to grind who seem to twist the 

narrative for every policy decision. Unfortunately, access to information 

doesn’t always make life easier. It’s more challenging to identify fact from 

fiction. And, the leadership must adapt to new communication methods 

with Airmen and their families.

Final question, if you were looking at Airmen and you 

had to start a sentence with “I believe,” what would 

you say?

I believe making a positive difference for our Air Force requires 

us to understand we are part of something bigger than ourselves. The roles 

we play are truthfully never about us. We each have specific assignments 

for a relatively short period. We owe it to the organization to train our 

replacement beginning our first day on the job and every day after that. 

The goal isn’t to make ourselves irreplaceable but to help ensure longterm success by making things better for the people who will replace us 

along the journey.

I also believe people will continue to meet high expectations 

provided we give them important work to do, allow them to have a 

reasonable quality of life, and sincerely appreciate the sacrifices they and 

their families make daily.

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Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Gerald R. Murray

July 1, 2002 - June 30, 2006

Gerald Murray always knew that 

one day he may join the Air Force. His 

family has a long history of service going 

back to the Civil War, and jets fascinated 

him from an early age. In the late 1970s, 

when the economy fell flat and inflation 

was on the rise, Murray visited an Air 

Force recruiter with one simple request: 

make me a crew chief. The recruiter 

granted his wish, and in 1977, at age 21, 

he joined the Air Force.

Murray’s first assignment was to 

MacDill Air Force Base (AFB), Florida, 

where leadership quickly recognized 

his maintenance skills and work ethic. 

Three years later, he was selected to 

be a maintenance aircraft instructor 

and transitioned to Shaw AFB, South 

Carolina, where his career continued on 

a successful glide path. He was one of the 

first crew chiefs to work the transition 

from the F-4 to the F-16 aircraft, was one 

of the first Airmen deployed to Kuwait in 

support of Operations Desert Shield and 

Desert Storm, and was selected to set up 

an A-10 squadron that broke records: 

meeting initial operational capability 

faster than any squadron since World 

War II, deploying, then setting some of 

the highest sortie production rates in the 

Air Force.

Gen. John P. Jumper selected 

Murray to be the 14th Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force (CMSAF) in July 

2002, and Murray immediately focused 

on efforts to evolve the expeditionary air 

force to meet the challenges of a changed 

world following the terrorist attacks 

of 9/11. He reenergized the NCO 

Retraining Program to balance manpower 

across the force, introduced the Basic 

Expeditionary Airman Skills Training 

(BEAST) Week at Basic Military Training 

(BMT), and introduced a completely 

revamped physical fitness test—a move 

that strengthened the culture of fitness 

in the Air Force. Murray retired in June 

2006 after 29 years of service.

In November 2015, Murray sat 

down for an interview to discuss his Air 

Force career and tenure as the CMSAF. 

During the interview, he talked about 

his passion for aircraft maintenance and

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the challenges of transiting to a newer-generation aircraft, his 

experience as one of the first on the ground in Saudi Arabia for 

Operations Desert Storm and Desert Shield, and his focus on pushing 

the Air Force expeditionary mind-set further. The following are edited 

experts from the conversation.

Well Chief, I really appreciate you taking a bit of your 

time to sit down for this interview.

No, no, thank you. I think it is so important because, you know, 

it’s hard to believe that 50 years ago now, coming up on it, that Chief 

Airey was our first Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. I think it’s very 

important to document our history this way.

I agree. What we’d like do is go through your career 

and just have you offer your perspective on a few 

points you experienced. I know you joined the Air 

Force in the late 1970s...

1977.

Twenty-one years old, correct?

I was, yes.

That’s not uncommon for an Airman to join in their 

early twenties, but I’m curious to know if the Air 

Force was something you had already considered, 

and perhaps it just took a while to take the leap. 

Or was it a whimsical thought where you said, 

“You know, I’m going to go into the Air Force.” 

How did that play out for you?

Well, I have often told people that I joined the Air Force because 

I needed a job. There’s truth to that. I was working in home construction, 

building homes at the time, and the economy fell flat in the mid ’70s, and 

especially by ’77 the inflation rate was running very high. I worked for my 

father-in-law and with my brother-in-law. I really enjoyed it and thought 

that was where my career would continue, but the economy didn’t allow 

the start of another home. Unemployment was extremely high then, and 

so, I had to look at alternatives. I was married at the time, and so I looked 

at the service.

But now, back that up. There were preceding things that certainly 

led to thoughts of coming into the Air Force. I had two uncles that served 

in Vietnam—one drafted, one avoided the draft by volunteering to go to 

the Air Force. I had uncles that served in Korea, World War II, and World 

War I. My great-great grandfather actually died as a POW [prisoner of war] 

in the Civil War.

Those things from my family’s history, especially the two younger 

uncles, influenced me. And, oh by the way, I had to sign up for the draft 

during high school because Vietnam was going on when I was in school. So, 

those were some of the things and thoughts that pushed me to know that if I 

were to join the service, the Air Force would be where I wanted to go.

And ultimately, I tell you, jets fascinated me. When I went to the recruiter 

I told him that if I come in the Air Force I want to work on fighter aircraft. I 

wanted to be a crew chief, and I got a guaranteed job with it. So, those were 

the things. But yes, it was a matter of, from an economic standpoint, the 

need for a job, but there was a history of influence toward service that led to 

my thoughts and actual decision to join the Air Force.

So it was probably quite an honor then to carry on 

that family tradition.

Yes.

What was your impression when you first joined and 

you went through basic training and got your first 

assignment? What was your first impression of Airmen 

and the Air Force culture?

Well, you know, a little of this comes in hindsight. I thought basic 

training was way too easy, you know. I grew up on the farm; I worked 

construction; I was really active in sports, and so, I was a little disappointed 

with basic training.

You roll that forward 25 years, those influences of basic training 

had a bearing on some of my decisions for the readiness of the force and 

things I put in place as Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force.

To simplify, basic training was too easy; technical school was too short. 

What used to be, in my maintenance career field, six months to nine months 

of tech school was cut to two months. So, it was way too short. The training 

and preparation to go do the job I felt was not adequate. And again, things 

were changed over time as well.

OJT [on-the-job training] . . . a lot of OJT, and of course that 

affected readiness. When I got to my first base at MacDill there were 96 

F-4s. I will tell you, it was daunting to step out there, but it was exhilarating; 

it was exciting. We got our first duty station choice in Florida; so, we were 

pumped, coming out of North Carolina and we get to go to Florida. It was a 

very exciting time.

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But the mixture of a lack of standards and discipline were 

challenging. Hair was a big thing, you know, long hair, drugs. There were 

inconsistencies I found in that timeframe. It was a very interesting view of 

the force, because a lot of things in society that were going on in the late 

’70s were permeated in the Air Force as well.

What was interesting, though, was to start seeing that change. 

There were differences—both positive and negative. But it was an exciting 

timeframe out there on the flight line with a mission every day, with those 

jets flying, and being a part of that. That was exciting.

You mentioned you were down there, a crew chief 

at MacDill. Aircraft maintenance has always been 

a critical element of airpower and how we fight 

around the world, but as a young Airman sometimes, 

you don’t realize how important you are to that fight. 

Did that click for you pretty quickly?

I think it did. I was fortunate to have, I think, one of the best 

trainers, a young senior airman, Jeff Pellum, that set a great example 

about what it was to be a crew chief—the pride of the crew chief. Even 

back then, you longed to have your name on the side of that aircraft. 

When I got my name on the side, the pride I had in that, the ownership of 

that aircraft, was there.

So, from a maintenance standpoint, that was one of the important 

things: the symbolism that leads to ownership and a feeling that you are 

part of the mission. The other thing, I was recognized for my performance 

and selected as an instructor, which started broadening my aperture, even 

though it was still all focused on aircraft maintenance. This was something 

that evolved over time—to really see the impact and importance of your 

position in the Air Force. That of course then has to broaden out well 

beyond maintenance.

I was one of the first crew chiefs identified for [training on] the 

F-16, and I actually recovered the first F-16 block 25 aircraft that landed 

at Shaw AFB. Then I went into wing training to set up all the scheduling, 

and I was exposed to the National Guard. McEntire Air National Guard 

Base in South Carolina was the first guard unit to ever receive brand new 

aircraft, and I had a part in that. It began my education and understanding 

a little bit about the Total Force.

The other thing that really, I think, highlighted that view was 

attending the NCO Leadership School, which was a precursor to 

Airman Leadership School. Being exposed to multiple people from 

various AFSCs [Air Force Specialty Code], not just maintenance, 

gave me a greater appreciation of what we did as Airman and NCOs 

[noncommissioned officer]

Was there something there that made you decide, 

“Hey, I want to make this a career?” In the past, 

you’ve said you wanted to just do four years, but you 

obviously ended up staying longer than that. Was it 

that timeframe that did it for you?

It was. I actually reenlisted before going to Shaw because that was 

one of the requirements, but there were a few factors in that decision. A 

senior master sergeant by the name of Hillary McGartland—I called him Mac, 

he went on to be a great chief in our Air Force—he was from Shaw, came to 

MacDill, and started talking to me about the potential we might have from 

a cadre standpoint. He was just so impressive—I mean, he was super sharp; 

and so, ultimately, he had some influence.

I received a bonus, so money was a factor. I made staff sergeant 

under four years of service. So, I had line number for staff. They offered 

me a bonus. I sewed on staff, and got one and one-half times my pay to go 

with that. 

I think the other factor in that was my leadership. The leadership 

support I had then, and the recognition—there was recognition of being 

an instructor, recognition of being one of the best maintainers. Then to 

be selected to cadre and the influence of a senior NCO [SNCO] there, that 

showed me the value of what I could do.

Then the assignment at Shaw Air Force Base was only two hours 

from where I grew up in North Carolina, and Sherry and I were ready to start 

a family. There are a lot of things that go through one’s mind; it’s not just 

one piece. But it was interesting how those things gave us what we needed 

to decide to reenlist.

It still was not, at that point, “I’m going to reenlist and spend 20–30 

years in the service.” It’s an enlistment period, and ultimately, I’ve spoken—

and have spoken for a long time—about a different way to get Airmen to look 

at their service. My desire is to do away with reenlistments for NCOs. I think 

our professionalism and where we are from a career standpoint lends to that. 

I’d like Airmen to take a little different view than I did. But again, those were 

factors that propelled me to a career.

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Interesting. I think sometimes reenlistment as you 

get further along in your career becomes just a box 

you have to check because you know you want 

to keep serving.

Exactly, exactly. You know you roll that forward, when General 

[John P.] Jumper selected me as Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, 

I’m thinking, “Wow this is great.” Then a personnelist comes to me and 

says, “Chief, you don’t have retainability.” I said, “What do you mean?” 

“Well, you need to reenlist because you don’t have the retainability to 

go take another assignment.” So, I go to my boss, General [William J.] 

Begert and I said, “Boss, can I stay in the service?” He said, “What are you 

talking about?” and I said, “I don’t have retainability for the assignment. 

I’ve got to reenlist.” (laughter) 

So, we had fun with it, and actually I reenlisted in General Begert’s 

office, and we publicized it there in the paper in PACAF [Pacific Air 

Forces]. But again, why does someone selected as Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force have to sign another contract? Because at that time, you 

can’t run me out of the service.

That’s quite a story. Going back to the leadership you 

had in your early days as a maintainer, did they shape 

your leadership perspective and how you approached 

leadership for the rest of your career?

Absolutely. Like I said, having the great fortune to start out under 

a great trainer—Jeff went on to get his commission; he flew F-4s; retired 

as a lieutenant colonel—I had some great young leadership, and older 

leadership from that first base that had a good bearing on me. Then, of 

course, I talked about Chief McGartland at Shaw.

Along the way, too, I ran into some of the worst leadership I 

had ever experienced. In fact, a supervisor at Myrtle Beach [AFB, South 

Carolina], my first supervisor there, was probably the worst supervisor I 

have ever experienced in my life. So, I took lessons learned from that—

this is the way you don’t want to be. Then the other thing is trying to, 

you know, understand and establish my leadership: how to train, how to 

supervise. But I was greatly influenced by those that I served under—both 

positive and negative.

Is it important for Airmen to start thinking about 

that early in their career?

It is. In fact, I spoke to an Airman Leadership School class the 

day before yesterday, and there is a standard question I love to ask all 

young Airman. I start out with, “How many of you have served under a 

bad supervisor?” It’s amazing to me—I say amazing, but it doesn’t surprise 

me anymore—that the vast majority, in such a short period of time, say they 

have. Then you peel that back. Why? Why is it—because we’ve put so much 

emphasis on leadership in the military—they believe they’ve experienced 

that? Have they really given thought as to why they would label someone a 

bad supervisor or leader, and then turn it on themselves? How do you think 

people speak about you? What would they say about you—good or bad? 

Why? Have you given thought?

So, I absolutely agree that the younger we can get people to think 

about their personal leadership and how they should be developing, the 

better. To get people to recognize, regardless if it’s a career in the military, 

it’s just life. As they’re going to develop in life, how are they developing? If 

they can put more deliberate thought to that, especially if they’re going to 

grow to be somebody who influences other people, is responsible for other 

people, and helps other people. I absolutely agree that we’d like them to 

think about that while they’re younger. 

Yeah, that’s a good perspective. You talked about 

your experience early on transitioning to the F-16. I’m 

curious to understand some of the bigger challenges 

during that transition, because we’re going through 

a similar transition now with the F-35, as you’re very 

well aware.

Absolutely. You know, I work where I do today with fifth-generation 

type of aircraft, which are just incredible leaps in technology above the 

fourth generation. It was the same thing going from F-4s to F-16s. 

The fundamentals of aircraft maintenance and aircraft systems is 

mechanical, hydraulic, and electrical, and that was what we basically were 

trained on and educated in. There were some electronics there, but not 

near what we adapted to in the F-16. Now I’ve got diagnostic systems in the 

aircraft and fault reporting with it. It was a totally different way to go about 

troubleshooting, to understand the aircraft. Then to go through the growing 

pains of this new technology that’s not completely perfected. To be able to 

go in and learn that, it was a huge jump for us from what we had started 

out in, basically, third-generation type aircraft. That’s the same thing I see 

going on in the force today. How do we help Airmen faster adapt to using 

this new technology today?

What I also find interesting, though, is in many cases young people 

today are very attuned to the information technologies, software, computing 

skills, and things of that nature. It’s interesting now to reverse it from our 

challenge. We were very adept to mechanical, electrical and hydraulics, and 

now we’re having to go back and teach some of those fundamentals.

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Yes, it changes from generation to generation I 

suppose. Early in your career you were sent to 

Incirlik Air Base in Turkey. I’ve been there twice; it’s 

a great assignment. I know at the time, though, it 

wasn’t on the top of your list of places to go.

No, in fact, it was a complete surprise, no-notice assignment, to 

the point where I actually learned about the assignment by calling the [Air 

Force Personnel Center]. It took three weeks to get through the rotary 

dial system, the old dial telephones, just to have a senior master sergeant 

functional manager tell me on the phone that I had an assignment to 

Turkey. That was quite shocking to us.

We loved where we were at, the assignment at Shaw, what I was 

doing, and the job. I mean, things couldn’t have been better. And then, 

“We’re going where? Where is this?” We had to go get a map and find out 

where Adana, Turkey, was.

It was shocking to my wife, you know, the first time we had ever 

been out of the country, experienced anything like this, but it turned 

out to be one of the greatest things that ever happened to us. It opened 

our aperture to a world out there that we had never known growing up 

in the farmland in a small community in North Carolina. The mission I 

was exposed to—I was a crew chief on a Victor Alert pad, which was with 

nuclear weapons. Remember this was the Cold War era, so we actually 

kept aircraft cocked live with live nuclear ammunitions on them; so, an 

incredible mission. 

And then the experiences of travel, interacting with the Turkish 

people and different people of all walks of life. The community ... you 

developed a sense of family, because you’re now thrust together overseas 

in a way, and you become much closer with your fellow Airmen and 

families. It really was a huge bearing on us. It gave us a sense that being 

part of the Air Force is also being part of a larger extended family. So, it 

was a great, positive influence for us.

What did it teach you about, you know, going places 

you didn’t necessarily want to go?

I think I got my choice of where I wanted to be assigned two times 

in the Air Force, and that was when I walked into the recruiter and told 

him I wanted to be a crew chief on fighter aircraft and at tech school when 

I got selected to go to MacDill, Florida. The rest of the time it was like, 

“I want to go here,” and “No, you’re going to go there.”

It put in my head what I’ve always used, which is remember this is 

an all-volunteer force. You volunteered to go to Korea; you volunteered 

to go to Turkey; you volunteered to go to Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and Kuwait. 

Whatever it is, you already volunteered for it when you came in and 

signed there.

The other thing it gave me, is to look at those things not as I didn’t 

volunteer for it, or as something I didn’t want to do, but ultimately, as an 

opportunity. Some of the greatest opportunities I had in the service are the 

things I never thought I actually would be assigned to do—either by job and 

position or my assignment.

Things you don’t necessarily want, then turn out to be..

Then turn out to be the best, yes.

That’s great. I wanted to ask you a question about the 

uniform, because I believe you were a master sergeant 

when we moved the master sergeant stripe from the 

bottom of the insignia to the top, is that right?1

Actually I was a senior [master sergeant], and when it occurred I 

had actually sewn on chief. I was a senior master sergeant at McChord 

AFB, Washington, when Chief [CMSAF #10 Gary] Pfingston and General 

[Merrill] McPeak introduced the idea of the stripe, but it took time to get 

the stripes made and get them out. The sew-on date for that was 1 January 

1995. Well, I sewed on chief on 1 November 1994; so actually, I take a little 

bit of pride that probably in history, I have worn more stripes as a chief than 

any chief ever will in the Air Force. I actually wore five different insignias as 

a chief master sergeant.2

But, to what we thought about that, I tell you we looked at that as 

very positive. Throughout my career, it was always a big deal to become 

the senior NCO. From the time I was an airman basic, we emphasized our 

[AFI 36-2618] Enlisted Force Structure. The Enlisted Force Structure 

that was there in 1977 was put in place around 1972, but if you go back to 

senior and chief master sergeant, those two grades occurred in 1959. So, 

throughout history, we had the three tiers: your junior enlisted, your junior 

mid-tier NCO, and your senior NCOs—that top three. So, it was a big deal 

to become a master sergeant in the top three. I can tell that from the get go, 

the decision to take that stripe off and move it to the top was looked at as 

overwhelmingly very positive.

For me though, I said, “Well, it costs me money.” I had to buy those 

silver threaded stripes to go on my mess dress. I wore those on my mess 

dress for two months and then had to take them off, but we didn’t go back 

to the silver thread. We actually went to the regular stripes we have today.3 

But, yes, I was a chief with two stripes above and actually became a chief with 

the three stripes above there in that transition.

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You mentioned master sergeant has always been part 

of the top three in a three-tier structure, but was 

there a point maybe throughout your career where 

you started to see master sergeants taking on more 

of a senior NCO leadership role, or was it kind of 

always that way?

I think for the most part it was like that. I didn’t realize it when I first 

came in, but I saw a lot of junior NCOs—staff sergeants, tech sergeants—

with some pretty key leadership roles, not knowing that after Vietnam 

they had drawn down the force in a way that stripped a lot of that midtier and master sergeants out. That changed after Desert Shield/Desert 

Storm when we actually took so many senior airmen to tech sergeants out 

that we had an overage of master sergeants.

But for the most part, in my career, we did recognize master 

sergeants as SNCOs. Of course by SNCOs, the master sergeants are the 

highest population. We saw that, primarily, our flight chiefs were master 

sergeants; so, we looked at that and expected that.

When I was at Myrtle Beach as a master sergeant production 

superintendent, my call sign on the radio was “Boss.” The master sergeant 

was the Boss, and I saw that throughout different career fields. That was 

always the crossover point, when the responsibility given there goes up. It 

still holds, and I think that it’s right where it is.

Interesting, thank you. You deployed to Saudi Arabia 

during the build up for Desert Shield, and you were 

there as Desert Storm kicked off, which has to be 

a fascinating part of history to witness. You were 

there at that moment, which was a huge turning point 

for our Air Force and for the military.

Right.

What was it like to be there at that time?

You know, right at first, it was a little scary there. We had spent 

my entire career at that point—13 years in the Air Force—in the Cold War, 

in garrison. A lot of deployments were small, short deployments that we 

would use for exercises to make sure we kept the force ready. I used to say, 

jokingly, that in the first 13 years of my Air Force career they sent me TDY 

[temporary duty] all the time, but my longest TDY was three weeks. And 

they sent me from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, to Honolulu, Hawaii.

Desert Shield/Desert Storm changed all of that. It was about two 

weeks’ notice as we watched everything build up there after Iraq invaded 

Kuwait, and President (George H. W.) Bush made the decision and built the 

coalition that we were going to go do that.4 

So, I was on the first aircraft that landed there at the base we were 

going into. We, at the worker level, had little idea where we were at or what 

was going on. Was Iraq going to come on into Saudi Arabia? Was Saddam 

Hussein going to drive the Iraqi force into the kingdom? We didn’t know 

that. We had little protection around us; so, it was a little daunting with a lot 

of apprehension there. But once that did not occur, we built up our forces.

You know, I have to go back. Where I came from, an A-10 base at Myrtle 

Beach, South Carolina, we could not have been any better prepared. I 

mean, we had peaked in preparation through ORIs [operational readiness 

inspection], OREs [operational readiness exercise], other types of training 

on how to mobilize, how to employ our forces. Then to be able to look at 

that awesome power—we had the ability to take and rapidly build up forces, 

bed down forces in preparation. It gave us a great deal of confidence that we 

were ready.

I believe, too, there was a mindset among us from the lessons 

of Vietnam. The leadership of our nation from the president, from the 

commander in chief down, had no doubt whatsoever that we were going to 

be victorious. We were going to take and execute a mission, and it showed 

in every sense. So, it was exciting and exhilarating. There was that sense 

of mission accomplishment that we took forward. And as we know, Desert 

Shield/Desert Storm was an incredible turning point in history. I think it 

was, in many ways, for the culture of our Air Force and who we are and what 

we do, and certainly our nation as well.

Was there any hunch then that 25 years later we were 

still going to be in the region?

No. I think looking back, it really is amazing to think about it. 

Everything we were doing was to execute a mission to be victorious. I would 

tell you, I think we questioned why our leadership pulled up and stopped. 

But then, when the president explained to us that the mission was to drive 

Iraq out of Kuwait, it was mission accomplished. So, we actually came home 

feeling good about that. We had accomplished that mission.

Now, roll that forward. I returned back again in 1995, and then 

I returned back again in 1997 under Operations Southern Watch and 

Northern Watch because Saddam Hussein didn’t learn his lesson—and this 

was after a massive drawdown of the force as well as a reorganization. We 

ended up having to deploy back into Kuwait, and we kept an established 

presence of aircraft and other forces there and in the Middle East through 

that time. That’s what drove us into having to go back again, because 

Hussein was threatening war in the region.

By then I was at Moody Air Force Base,[Georgia]; we were a lead 

air expeditionary force wing. We got the call, and with a 20-hour notice 

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deployed the wing and established it. Of course, our ability to project 

power in such a rapid way was, I believe, the deterrent that kept Hussein 

from [invading] again.

But did we see this coming? No. Did we think we were going to 

be in a continuous war posture, if you will, for this number of years, since 

1990? I don’t think anybody saw it coming.

You were there at the beginning, and of course you’re 

still involved with the Air Force and the military; so, 

I’m sure it’s a fascinating perspective looking back 

after all this time.

It is.

When you went out there the first time you were a 

senior NCO, up close leading Airmen. What inspired 

you about the Airmen you led at that time on the 

ground in the early 1990s?

I think, and again, I look at it from the perspective of the unit I was 

in and our readiness, we exercised and trained, and trained and trained; 

that was one of the big things about the Cold War that drove us. Although 

we were somewhat of an in-garrison force, we did deploy and exercise. 

I think it was a pinnacle of time for us in the force. After the drawdown 

of Vietnam, then over the course of the next decade an emphasis on 

rebuilding our military that came from the senior leadership of our nation.

Of course, through the Reagan administration there was a commitment 

to the military—the funding we had, the new equipment we had. We were 

flying new F-16s and F-15s, and we had new technologies that were going 

into bear with us. We had robust education and training on the force. 

So, when we actually then had to commit it to a mission, the focus of the 

mission was just incredible.

The teamwork—I was amazed. My main base there in Saudi Arabia 

was King Fahd International Airport; that’s where we bedded down all the 

A-10s, special forces, our Combat Talon aircraft, and then a large part of 

the Army. From that main operating base, I was sent on Christmas Eve to 

King Khalid Military City, which is a northern Saudi Arabia base about 

35 miles from the Iraqi border. It became the most-northern forward 

operating location. And again, from an A-10 perspective, that’s exactly 

how we had designed the A-10: to be close into the battlefront, turn back, 

rearm, refuel, and turn back to it.

We took people, if I remember correctly, from about 13 different 

bases, organizations, and units across the Air Force and brought them 

together there—people that had never worked together before. We’re not 

talking about one organization, one wing, squadron, or group. We cobbled 

this thing together from people that came from all of these, from European 

bases and different stateside bases and all different AFSCs. We put them 

together, and, again, our training was so well that we were able to establish 

that into probably one of the greatest units I’ve ever seen. So, the unity, the 

teamwork, and all of that came because we were trained in our jobs and we 

knew how to do it. We put together an organization and executed like I had 

never experienced before. That was incredibly exciting.

My boss—my immediate officer in charge—was a reserve officer. He 

actually wrote my Bronze Star. I had not worked for a reserve officer before, 

and he came in and he was leading us in maintenance. My three expediters 

came from different bases; it was really fascinating to be able to see that. 

But again, a testament to the consistency we saw across our Air Force in the 

preparation of readiness and then the mindset that our Airmen had about 

mission accomplishment.

That’s interesting. I know when you came back you 

went back to your base and you deployed again to 

Bahrain, and then you deployed again, I think, 

to Kuwait...

To Kuwait and then Bahrain, yes.

And this all happened before 9/11; so, I think, from an 

Airman who serves today, we tend to think of 9/11 as 

being a turning point where now we’re being deployed 

all the time. And in reality, you know, we did that quite 

a bit before then.

That’s right, yes.

What was the mindset of Airmen who served during 

the 1990s and were deploying regularly?

I think after Desert Shield/Desert Storm and the realization and fact 

that the Middle East was going to be an area that was going to be unstable, 

the focus was that we’ve got to be an expeditionary force.

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You have to remember, too, we drew the force down as was 

preceded in history after many major conflicts. Going into Desert Shield/

Desert Storm, we had nearly 600,000 active duty Airmen. We were close 

to probably a million strong if you took all the Total Force. From an active 

duty Airman’s standpoint, we drew that 600,000 down to nearly half 

that. The Guard and Reserve weren’t drawn down quite as much, but all 

drew down.5

And now we’re half our size, yet our deployments are picking 

up. We’re having to deploy large numbers of Airmen and bed them 

down; so, we’re finding an imbalance. How do we set a tempo that gives 

us predictability and readiness? How can wings carry out our training 

objectives we need to have from a readiness standpoint?

A lot of that time period was trying to perfect the AEF or the Air 

Expeditionary Force structure, pre-identifying units and giving them a 

posture of when they would go. That’s how my deployment to Bahrain 

came from Moody Air Force Base. The 347th [Rescue] Wing, along with 

4th [Fighter] Wing out of Seymour Johnson [AFB, North Carolina], the 

Gunslingers [366th Fighter Wing] out of Mountain Home [AFB], Idaho, 

and the 1st Fighter Wing at Langley Air Force Base, [Virginia,] were 

the four lead AEF wings for the fighter forces. Then your mobility forces 

organized in a little bit different way.

We started learning how to organize, train, and equip and be 

ready to put those together. That occurred during the time between 1990 

and 2001. How do we set the right tempo and the right balance? How do 

we organize, train, and equip and be able to execute a mission, because 

the requirements did not go away? If anything, they were increasing over 

that period of time, and we were learning along the way to be able to adapt 

through that.

You mentioned the deployment requirements 

increasing, and with that, so do the sacrifices when it 

comes to time with family.

Absolutely.

How did the Airmen respond when it came to their 

motivation and their commitment to serve?

I think for the most part, for the Airmen that were continuing to 

serve, when they looked at those deployment time periods, they had a 

focus on mission that gave them a great sense of pride, accomplishment, 

and motivation. The flip side of that, as you talked about, is the sacrifice of 

the family left behind.

Then some of the imbalances of deployment after deployment 

started taking their toll. You take what was going on in American society—

it was a great time in our nation. Unemployment was very low; the economy 

was steaming very well. So, what we saw in the late ’90s—I think 1999—is 

that we missed our recruiting goals for the first time in our history, and our 

retention was at the lowest we had had. So, now we are fighting the fact that 

not only are we having trouble retaining Airmen, we’re having trouble even 

recruiting Airmen.

Recruiters were having to use waivers to go out and get the force. 

We had a big initiative there to change and push up reenlistment bonuses. 

We also looked at, what do we have to do to balance things with the family? 

And again, that AEF process was all part of that, to try to give our Airmen 

more predictability so we would not have as many decide the sacrifices of 

service were too great.

We started putting a lot of emphasis then on family: family care, 

family readiness, the balance in our people’s lives. Because, as the facts 

presented themselves, we weren’t keeping the human resources that we 

needed, and we were having problems being able to bring them in.

You became the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

in 2002, right after 9/11—right as Operation Enduring 

Freedom began and right before Operation Iraqi 

Freedom. That is when we saw the transition from the 

1990s, where we were building up this expeditionary 

construct to a full bore expeditionary force. What 

were some of the primary challenges you saw when 

you took the seat?

I think for me, and from the very beginning of that timeframe, there 

was a question about the readiness of our force and the readiness of our 

enlisted force. Were they as ready as they needed to be?

One of the things that became apparent very fast, as we were going 

into Iraq and Afghanistan, is that Airmen had not experienced the closeness 

into the battlefield area—into where the conflict was. Conflict was totally 

different in this than at any time we had ever experienced, because it was not 

major force in a state-on-state. We’re in an area of strife, and many of our 

Airmen are starting to be outside the wire, exposed to things that I had never 

been exposed to. Desert Shield/Desert Storm was nothing like deploying 

into Operation Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom.

So, immediately it became, “Are we preparing our Airmen the way 

we should be?” That took me all the way back to my experience when I came 

in the Air Force at basic training. Basic training had basically changed very 

little from 1977 to 2002. There were some tweaks—Chief [CMSAF #12 

Eric W.] Benken introduced Warrior Week. There was a determination 

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that Airmen would become an Airman after the completion of Warrior 

Week, but it was still a six-week course. I touched an M16 two days in 

my entire six weeks of basic training. Airmen were still touching an M16 

[rifle] two days in basic training and didn’t touch another one for a year, 

perhaps until they did their qualification training. So, my thought was that 

basic training needed to change.

One of the immediate changes we did is begin what I termed the 

BEAST: Basic Expeditionary Airman Skills Training. Inside of that sixand-a-half weeks, we deployed them into a deployed location and gave 

them threats of infiltration, mortar attacks, and things of that nature to a 

little bit more expose them to what an encampment would be at a base like 

Bagram [AB, Afghanistan], or other locations.

The other was to introduce them to rifles—we were able to bring 

in training rifles. I wanted to put real rifles in there, and I was told, “No, 

we can’t do that, we’d have to arm the Tis [training instructors].” And 

I said, “God no, we don’t want to do that. They’ll shoot somebody.” 

So, we gave them training rifles to use to give them more experiences 

along the way.

Of course, as we know today, I was able to gain, during my time, 

the funding to expand basic training to eight-and-a-half weeks versus 

the six weeks that we had. But, again, it was the focus on readiness. Are 

we focusing training correctly? For the first time, we had the in-lieu-of 

positions to support the Army. The Army was having a hard time being 

able to have the forces they needed; so, we started deploying convoy 

operations out of our transportation units. Our units were not set up as 

convoy operations; we had to learn that. We had to adapt to the type of 

training. We had to start sending Airmen to Army units to gain training. 

So, now we’re blending together a force different than we had in the past. 

A lot of that was on the fly. That became a great part of the focus I put 

on the enlisted force, making sure we looked at how we measured the 

readiness, and prepared Airmen for a lot of duties and tasks they had not 

been exposed to before.

What did you notice about how the Airmen responded 

to those changes?

I tell you, the resiliency of our Airmen, the adaptability, we use 

that phrase, “Flexibility is the key to airpower.” I was amazed at just how 

flexible, how adaptive our Airmen were.

The convoy operations, transportation—what I saw when General 

Jumper and I visited units in Iraq and Afghanistan is that our Airmen had 

taken the Army system and how they approached convoy operations and 

adapted it through intelligence, communication, and all that they had as 

Airmen. They applied their Airmen skills, Airmen mindset to it, and we 

had lower casualty rates and better convoy operations set up in the Air 

Force. Even the Army came to recognize that the Air Force was adapting 

and making changes in convoy operations and were better than they were, 

and it had been one of their primary skills.

We were not organized, trained, and equipped that way; yet, we 

adapted. Then our transporters came back, and we took the most-recent 

experienced Airmen and put them with a cadre of instructors out at Camp 

Bullis in [San Antonio,] Texas. We were actually then taking real lessons 

learned right in the operation area and bringing that back to train the 

next group that was going to go over. It just amazed me again to see the 

adaptability of our Airmen, the intelligence and the ingenuity they had to be 

able to do that.

The other big changes that came with the push to be 

more expeditionary and more ready for the fight was 

the fitness program. You saw up close the transition 

to what we have today. Why was it important to make 

that move from the bike test?

Well, you know, I give that to General Jumper. It was the first task I 

was given by the boss—actually, before I even arrived in Washington. I had 

dinner with him one evening, and he turned to me and said, “Chief, the first 

thing I want you to do . . . ,” and of course now I’ve got the Chief of Staff of 

the Air Force (CSAF), my new boss, telling me my first task. And he says, “I 

want you to work with me real close to help bring in a new fitness program 

in the Air Force.” And I’m like, “Really?” (laughter)

The vision he had for it, and just how committed he was, as we were 

preparing for Iraq and Afghanistan, to physical fitness as part of our total 

health—the physical, mental, spiritual well-being. He recognized the force 

was not as fit as he wanted it to be.

So, ultimately throughout all of the other things in my first year, 

I spent time working with primarily an officer from personnel and from 

medical, and we hammered out the new physical fitness program that we put 

in place.

The other thing I looked at was understanding what it was to change. 

I always looked at General Jumper as being one of the greatest change 

agents, of understanding that part of a change is not just telling people that 

you’re going to go do this. Part of change is recognizing how you get them 

to accept it, and knowing that it’s a cultural change. Culture change takes a 

period of time. Experts would tell you that a commitment to a major change 

in culture in an organization takes 7–10 years. We knew we weren’t going 

to be in the job 7–10 years; so, how did we put in place something that those 

behind us would continue to follow?

We also knew from the very beginning that no matter how much 

thought and preparation we put into it, we probably weren’t going to get it 

228
exactly right. Especially since we were using some different approaches to 

measurement–-again, how do you measure physical fitness? With all of us 

with different shapes and sizes of bodies, and males and females, how do 

you bring those standards about? We settled on the fact that there would 

be running involved, there would be push-ups and the sit-ups that were 

going to be the strength pieces of that—sit-ups for the core, push-ups for 

the muscular part of it.

Then there was the waist measurement. A little bit of controversy 

there, but we used good science. We went out to colleges and universities, 

doctors in medicine and physiology. We brought all of these things in to 

help us. It was not just something that was a whim or “Yeah, I think I like 

that.” We used science as part of it as well.

But I tell you, I think it was one of the greatest things we ever 

did. I go back to my time in the Air Force, the physical fitness aspect was 

go run a mile and a half once a year, and a lot of times that was pencil 

whipped, especially in my field. You get out there; if you can walk it, okay, 

you completed it type thing. This actually brought about a very serious 

focus on fitness.

The funding that we put in fitness centers—I had the opportunity 

to cut ribbons on brand new fitness centers across the Air Force. The 

uniform, I mean, when I deployed into Kuwait and Bahrain, we looked 

like a rainbow outfit. If we went out for physical fitness, we had every 

color shorts and pants. Then I go over and I look at my Army and Marine 

brethren, and they are out there in their fitness uniforms in formation—a 

team effort, together. So, I went into the Boss and said, “Boss, we need 

a fitness uniform to go with this as well,” and he agreed. He funded 

that right out of his pocket. We didn’t even POM [Program Objective 

Memorandum] it; we just did it.6

 That was the other thing there—we were 

about changing the mind-set, changing the culture of our Airmen, and I 

would tell you today we are much better for it.

Yeah, and you mentioned the culture change and the 

time it takes. The fitness centers you look at today 

and just the way everyone approaches fitness—

every morning the fitness center is full, every 

evening it’s full. You see teams running around base, 

and I think combine that with the approach in basic 

training and the expeditionary mind-set. Would you 

say Airmen are better today?

I would tell you that Airmen today are better trained, better 

equipped—and I mean equipped from the standpoint that they’ve got the 

tools. Are they flying the oldest airplanes in the history of our Air Force? 

Yes, they are. I mean the fact they we’re still flying B-52s and KC-135s 

and F-16s that are 25–30 years old ...

I think though, from an Airman’s perspective today, the training 

and education is by far the highest we have ever seen in the force. Our 

education, our training, the readiness of the Force, and the experiences 

through deployments—the Airmen today, and especially the NCOs and our 

commissioned officers, if they are over three to four years in service, they 

have more deployment time, on average, than any of the force that went 

before them. 

I don’t take anything away from the Airmen of the past, in any way. 

Those that preceded us back in the Army Air Corps, that helped birth us, 

at any given time in our nation, the commitment of the American spirit and 

our determination and will has been there. But I am so impressed with the 

Airmen today. How they have maintained where they are. A lot of that comes 

with the combination of education, knowledge, experience, and training 

they have.

Considering everything that you did during your tenure 

and the changes that we’ve mentioned, what made you 

proudest of the Airmen that served under you?

The team effort. When I was Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, 

I told my immediate staff, “Look, when it comes to us, it’s not about me. It’s 

not about me as Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force; it’s about us as the 

Office of the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force.”

When I led the unit at Moody Air Force Base, taking lessons learned 

from the past of the great unit at Myrtle Beach in the A-10 community...to 

go back and reset, to take those lessons learned ... of course in maintenance, 

it’s all about processes, measurements, and metrics, using lagging and 

leading indicators, but the other part of that was establishing within the unit 

the team effort that it takes—and then a balance of family. 

Of course, I take the lead from my wife. Sherry and I have been 

married the entire time. We were married before I came in the Air Force. 

We’re still married, and she is one of my great motivators. But to recognize 

and see the sacrifices that she had to make and that we made as a family 

through my deployments, gave me that sense that the family has to be a part 

of the unit as well. That’s the thing I try to impress upon people today. You 

can’t separate it.

Then remember, too, that we have a mission. You know, you gotta 

get ’er done. There is an objective out here that we’ve got to make, and 

that’s where the focus is: delivering the results. What we are here to do is to 

deliver airpower. So, those are the things I learned early and I tried to work 

on throughout my career.

229
That’s interesting. You mentioned your time at Moody, 

and I actually found that pretty interesting looking 

back over your career. One of the highlights is you 

heading to Moody and basically building up a unit and 

then leading it to break a ton of records. What was 

the secret to your success there?

Well, that’s that lessons learned. Myrtle Beach, you know, the 

leadership that I had at Myrtle Beach, the organization, everything put 

together. One of the great disappointments is that we closed Myrtle 

Beach. We drew the force down, and we set so many imbalances in the 

force. Stripping a force, cutting an active-duty force in half and doing that 

over the course of about a three-year period of time—we cut tremendous 

capabilities. We just riddled organizations in the force with the imbalances.

When I went into Moody, the first manpower document they 

gave me to set up the new unit, I was going to be 300-percent manned 

in master sergeants. I said, “I can’t have that many.” So, I went to work 

even before I got there, knowing I was going to be short five levels and 

seven levels except for the masters. No way I was going to take master 

sergeants and make them have to carry toolboxes. That was not what the 

master sergeants wanted to do. They wanted to be in charge of the flight, 

and yet now, look, I got to put you crewing an airplane. You’ve got the 

skills, you’ve developed that out there, that’s what you’re going to have to 

do, but, I was able to make those adjustments.

The other thing was that we were handed a big bill. As we moved 

to stand up that unit, they were already taking A-10s back into Kuwait. We 

knew we were going to be tasked to deploy immediately after IOC [initial 

operating capability]. So, we were the fastest since World War II. We 

declared initial operation capability in 90 days and then deployed the unit 

for 90 days after that. Then to bring it back after a deployment—that was 

all 24 aircraft by the way. We took every one of our aircraft, primarily the 

entire squadron. All of these people PCSed [permanent change of station] 

in, bedded down, established homes. You can imagine they have to get 

their families settled, get their kids in school, get settled down. Ninety 

days later we picked up and we deployed. Then it was to come home from 

that, and now let’s put this unit together. Now, what we are going to do is 

build the greatest unit.

Of course my mind-set, and some will tell you I was a tough chief, 

but my mind-set is that any unit that I am going to be in, if it’s not the 

best, then we’re going to make it the best. And now I am the chief, and I 

had officers that supported that. We’re going to be the best A-10 unit in 

the entire Air Force. We set an expectation that we are going to go do 

that, and we achieved the highest mission-capable rate of all the A-10s in 

the Air Force.

That’s cool. Good story. So, just one final question here 

for you, Chief. One of the things we’ve been asking the 

Chiefs is, when you take a look at the Air Force today, 

the Airmen who are serving, and you had to start a 

sentence with “I believe”—what would you say?

I believe our Airmen today are the best Airmen in the world. I believe 

our Airmen today have the best knowledge, training, and experience our 

Air Force has ever seen. I believe our Airmen will continue in every way they 

can to ensure our Air Force is, and will be forever, the greatest Air Force in 

the world.

230
231
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

Rodney J. McKinley

June 30, 2006 - June 30, 2009

Rodney McKinley joined the Air 

Force twice. He enlisted with his high 

school buddies in 1974 and served as a 

medic for a little over three years before 

choosing to separate and pursue outside 

opportunities and an education. Four and 

a half years later, in 1982, he realized he 

missed the Air Force and enlisted again, 

this time as a crew chief.

Born and raised in southwestern 

Ohio, McKinley knew when he came 

in the second time that he would be 

committed. He put his best foot forward 

and vowed to be the best Airman he could 

be. His positive attitude led to a successful 

stint as a crew chief. Then, following 

the eruption of Mount Pinatubo in the 

Philippines in 1991, McKinley became a 

first sergeant. He wore the diamond for 

the next 10 years, calling it the best job 

he had in his Air Force career.

In June 2006 Gen. Michael 

Mosely selected McKinley to be the 

15th Chief Master Sergeant of the Air 

Force (CMSAF). During his tenure, the 

Air Force was involved in two wars. 

He faced a significant drawdown of 

nearly 40,000 Airmen, improved 

the physical training (PT) program, 

and strengthened the focus on our 

heritage—implementing the Walk of 

Heroes at basic military training (BMT), 

establishing the Airman’s Creed, and 

dedicating the Air Force Memorial. 

McKinley retired from active duty in 

June 2009.

In November 2015 McKinley 

sat down in his home for an interview to 

discuss his Air Force career and tenure 

as the CMSAF. During the interview, 

he talked about his two enlistments 

and the challenges he faced outside the 

service. He also shared the background 

behind the Airman’s Creed and reflected 

on the day both the Secretary of the Air 

Force and Chief of Staff of the Air Force 

were relieved of duty following nuclear 

mishaps in 2008. The following are 

edited experts from the conversation.

232
Alright Chief, thank you for sitting down with us this 

morning. Can you tell me a little bit about the first 

time you joined the Air Force in 1974? What led you 

toward the Air Force?

I grew up in southwestern Ohio, in a small town—farmland 

country. My sixth-grade class visited the museum in Dayton, Ohio, 

Wright-Patterson AFB. It was a great experience going to visit that 

museum, and it kind of gave several of us an introduction to the Air Force; 

we were just enamored with it. After high school, I didn’t have the funds to 

go to college. I played football, but I wasn’t getting college scholarships or 

anything; so, me and a couple buddies decided to look into the Air Force.

In November of 1973, we went and visited the recruiter in Batavia, 

Ohio, and we decided to sign up on the Buddy Plan. Three of us signed up 

for the Delayed Enlistment Program, and we went to basic training on 1 

July, ’74, I think it was.

We finished basic training together. One went off to California to 

learn Vietnamese, because we were still in the drawdown of the Vietnam 

War. One went off to Offutt AFB, Nebraska, and I went to Seymour 

Johnson AFB, in North Carolina. So, that was the end of our Buddy Plan 

right there.

You never crossed paths again?

Never crossed paths again in the Air Force, and they both got out 

after four years. I was a medic. I started off in obstetrics. I worked there for 

nine months and then went to work in the emergency room. I absolutely 

loved it. I loved being a medic, there were a lot of great experiences, and I 

learned to work under pressure.

As a matter of fact, later on in life, as a first sergeant and command 

chief, people would ask, “Well, Chief, how do you stay calm under 

pressure?” And I would say, “Well, you know, I worked in the emergency 

room, and we had life-and-death situations where people die on a table.” 

A performance report or a decoration being late is not exactly life or 

death. So, having been through that, as a medic, it helped me keep things 

in perspective. I was able to slow down, stay calm, and not get too excited 

over what would really stress some other people out.

After your first enlistment you decided that was it, 

and separated. What led you in that direction?

In 1977 we were drawing down big time after the Vietnam War, 

and they were offering early outs. Even though I loved my job, my nextdoor neighbor was opening a brand new restaurant right outside the gate 

at Seymour Johnson. He said, “Hey, if you get out, you can be my assistant 

manager.” And I thought, “Wow, that is cool. I can be an assistant manager. 

I can grow my hair; I can grow a beard.” So, I said yes. I jumped at the chance 

to get out, and two weeks later, I was gone. I sold my leave, and I was out.

There was nobody telling me, “Hey, you need to make sure you are 

making the right decision before you get out.” I was married, and I just got 

out. When I was working at the restaurant, I was working the night shift, 

six days a week. I was putting in 65 hours a week, and I didn’t have any 

benefits—no medical, no dental, nothing.

I didn’t have the rights to play on the golf course anymore, or go to 

the gym; so, it was vastly different. I thought, “Well, I’m out, and I’ve got to 

deal with it.” So, I did it for a while, then moved to Texas and managed Mr. 

Gatti’s Pizza. I did that for a couple years, then I decided to move back to 

Ohio and go back to school. I ended up going back to work—I took my old 

APRs [Airman Performance Report] to the local hospital, and I showed them 

my training, and they hired me to run the emergency room at nights.

At what point did you decide to enlist again?

Well, I was working in the emergency room for a couple of years. 

I had reconstructive knee surgery, and then I got really sick. I was going to 

college full time and working nights. I came down with meningitis, and I was 

in the hospital for a while. After that I said, “You know, I’m not going to kill 

myself anymore. I want to go back in the Air Force. I miss the Air Force.”

Was it fairly easy to get back in?

I went and saw a recruiter, and the recruiter said, “Yes, man, we’d 

love to have you back in.” The plan was for me to come back in as a medic, 

but just before I was due to come back in, the recruiter told me, “There are 

no medical jobs available. The prior-service jobs are really dwindling. If you 

want to come back in, you need to do weapons or crew chief, but don’t worry 

about it, you can cross-train into medical once you are in.”

We had already made plans to come back in; so, I decided to be a 

crew chief. I went to Sheppard [AFB, Texas], to learn to be a crew chief in 

April of 1982, and it was like I was never out. I mean, I never really missed 

anything; I still was up to standards. The only thing I had a problem with is 

now senior NCOs were wearing shoulder boards. I came back as a senior 

airman, and I was walking around saluting senior NCOs. I wasn’t used to 

shoulder boards.

233
Was it frustrating for you to have to go the crew 

chief route? You were clearly passionate about the 

medical field and had worked there both in the Air 

Force and out.

No, it’s like when the Air Force taps you on the shoulder and 

says they need you to go do something else. I never got upset. I thought, 

“Okay, well, this is a new direction.” 

When Gen. Moseley interviewed me for Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force, he only asked one question. He said, “Chief, what 

do you think?” I sat back and thought, “What kind of a question is 

that?” I thought for a second and I said, “Well, sir, first off, I’ve got to 

tell you that my goal has never been to be the Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force. My goals in the Air Force have always been very 

simple: whatever job the Air Force gives me, I’m going to do the very 

best I can.

“I’m always going to treat people with dignity and respect, and 

I’m going to do the other things I should be doing as an Airman—that’s 

my professional military education, my dress and appearance, my physical 

fitness—the things I should be doing in my squadron and on my base and 

in my local community. I’ve always trusted that if do I those things, my 

leadership would take care of me.”

And he said, “Well, Chief, that’s a damn good answer; I didn’t 

want to be Chief of Staff either.”

That’s really been my basic philosophy. Whatever job the Air 

Force gives you, do your best. If you’re asked to go out and dig a ditch, dig 

that ditch the best you can so that no one has to come back and do it over. 

If you’re working in the dining facility and you’re cooking an omelet, take 

pride and make sure you make that omelet the best you can. Every job is 

important. Every AFSC [Air Force Specialty Code] is important. That was 

just my simple philosophy. I never got upset at the Air Force because they 

asked me to go do something else.

What did you think about crew chief duty—

was it what you expected?

When I came back in, I decided I was going to be the best crew chief 

I could be. We got stationed at Myrtle Beach [AFB, South Carolina], and 

I began working on A-10s. I learned a lot. I was dedicated, so I’d take the 

books home, and I’d study everything about the A-10. I progressed, and they 

put me in quality assurance. I became NCOIC [noncommissioned officer 

in charge] of FCF weight and balance—that’s functional check flights, and 

weight and balance.

I did very well there. I made staff first time out, and tech second 

time out. Then I got an assignment to [Clark AB] the Philippines. We had 

F-4s in the Philippines, and so, I was a crew chief on the flight line, as a 

new technical sergeant. Then, out of the blue, the chief in quality assurance 

pulled me off the flight line and said, “We want your experience here in 

quality assurance.” So, I went back to quality assurance and back to being 

the NCOIC of functional check flight and weight and balance. I also ended 

up being the chief inspector. 

So, I really enjoyed working on the F-4 and the experiences over 

there in the Philippines, until the volcano came.1

The volcano actually pushed you into first sergeant 

duty, is that correct?

Well, I made master sergeant right before the volcano. After the 

volcano, they closed the base, and I was notified by Classification and 

Training that I needed to either cross-train, do a consecutive overseas tour, 

or separate. And I thought, “I don’t want to cross-train.”

They told me we were doing away with the A-10—this is 1991—and 

the F-4, and there was no aircraft SEI [special experience identifier] for me 

stateside, so I had to find another job.

I looked at all the jobs out there and decided to be a first sergeant. 

In quality assurance, I made sure people followed guidelines, standards, and 

discipline. Then my medical background—I was very much a people person; 

so, I thought first sergeant would be great.

From that point on, I was on the first sergeant track. I did that for 

10 years, and it was my favorite job in my Air Force career. It was actually 

helping people. You could have such a positive effect on so many people 

when you were down in the unit level. I loved it. I made senior and chief as a 

first sergeant, and it was great.

234
At that point, I imagine you had decided to make the 

Air Force a career. You had mentioned before that 

when you came in, the second time, you were going 

to commit to it 100 percent. Why was that?

When I came back in the Air Force after being out for four-and-ahalf years, I knew it was going to be a career. I look at my first time in the 

Air Force; I was young. I came in at 18, and I was a typical one, two, three 

striper. I liked having fun. I was a really good medic. I think I did a fantastic 

job, but I was kind of your typical young guy, living in the barracks, until I 

got married.

But when I came back in the second time, I was committed. I 

mean, I was really committed. I knew that I was going to make it a career, 

and I knew it was important that, whatever I did, I did my best. So, I had a 

different mind-set by far when I came back in the second time.

If you would have asked me, the first time, if I was going to make 

it a career, I would have been like, “What, are you crazy?” It was just a 

four-year stint. That was the plan, and then get out. But when I came in the 

second time, I was going to make it at least 20 years, and hopefully make 

master sergeant and make it a good career.

Is there a certain reason why you made that 

decision right off the bat?

To come in?

Just to make it a career.

No. I just knew I loved the military—I loved the mind-set; I loved 

the camaraderie of being around other people with the same mind-set. 

I just knew that was going to be it for me. Plus, I liked the other things 

that you don’t think about—you know, playing sports against the other 

squadrons, the security for the family, the medical, the dental, and the 

long-term retirement benefit. I knew I was going stay when I came back 

in; so, I knew I needed to put my best foot forward.

I’d like to go back to your time in the Philippines . . . 

you mentioned you were there when Mount 

Pinatubo erupted.

Yes. We were there, and we had the warnings. The year before 

we had a huge earthquake; it was like a 7.8. Many people died in that 

earthquake in the Philippines, and it caused a seismic shift that created the 

conditions for Mount Pinatubo, which had been dormant for 600 years, 

to erupt in 1991.

We knew it was coming, because working on the flight line you could 

smell the sulfur in the air. Then, one day, they told us it was pretty imminent, 

and that we should watch the news that night for any new information. 

We watched it, and they said, “Get up early in the morning and watch 

again at 5 o’clock.” We got up early, watched it, and they basically said, 

“Get out of here.”

So, there was a mass exodus from Clark AB to [Naval Base] Subic 

Bay. We basically just took a suitcase with us, that’s it; then, a few days later, 

they took a couple buses of us back to Clark so we could go back into our 

house and get more stuff.

I went back into the house and was trying to get more stuff, and 

I heard all kinds of commotion. I went out to the street where my house 

was on the base, and the volcano had just erupted. There was this huge 

mushroom cloud going over my head. The bus came by, and we had to hop 

in the bus and leave. We were escorted back to Subic Bay, and we stayed 

there for several days.

With all the volcanic ash, it was dark in the daytime. I was working 

at the club to help organize and keep people together. Then they decided we 

needed to get out of there, and we couldn’t get out through airlift; so, we all 

went through the South China Sea on naval ships. We went on a naval ship 

to Cebu [the Philippines], then we flew out of Cebu to Guam, to Hickam 

[AFB, Hawaii], and then to McChord [AFB, California], and then onto the 

next duty assignment from there.

And your family was with you?

Yes. 

That must have been quite the experience for them.

It was an experience. It was one of those life experiences.

And as we mentioned before, that was a transition point 

for you. You left Clark and began first sergeant duty, 

which you did for 10 years and was it five squadrons?

I think I had seven squadrons total.

235
Seven squadrons. What was it that makes you say 

first sergeant duty was the best experience in 

your Air Force career?

I think being a first sergeant was incredible. Every first sergeant 

will have an effect on the unit. It’s either going to be positive or negative, 

but they will have an effect. So, I really tried to have a positive effect on 

people’s lives. I’ve always said, my greatest accomplishments in my Air 

Force career were people. To have someone who is having a tough time in 

the Air Force, with life or the job, or whatever, and you grab that person 

and have a positive effect on them, then they go off and have a successful 

Air Force career, what gets better than that? I have hundreds of stories 

I could tell about people whose lives I was able to have a positive effect 

on—that was really inspiring to me. And I’ve stayed in contact with many 

of them, and it’s pretty neat.

You do have some negative experiences. You have some people 

that are just not cut out to be in the Air Force. Sometimes the best thing 

for them is to go, and you’ve got to do that side of it, too. But I always try to 

do the positive thing. I try to point people in the right direction and hope 

they can come out of any challenge with a positive attitude. I just found 

that very rewarding.

Originally, it was tough to get promoted, because the first sergeant 

career field was so tough, but somehow it worked out; I did okay. I’m 

very thankful for my 10 years as a first sergeant and how it helped groom 

me, really, to be a command chief and then Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force.

You’ve mentioned before that when we talk about 

people, they are not troops. They are Airmen. 

Can you explain that one?

Yes. When I was the PACAF [Pacific Air Forces] command chief, 

my boss, Gen. [Paul V.] Hester was just a fantastic gentleman, a great 

general. As a first sergeant, I always said troops, and he called me in his 

office one day and said, “Chief, they are not troops, they are Airmen. They 

go to basic training; we tell them they are an Airman. They go to OTS; we 

tell them they are Airmen. At the Air Force Academy, they are Airmen. 

They are not troops.” I said, “I’ve got it, sir. They are not kids either,” 

because he always said kids. He goes, “Touché.”

We still stay in touch. We talk about it, and both of us have always 

been on this thing to call our Airmen, “Airmen,” instead of troops because, 

in basic training they have the coin ceremony, and they get that first coin. 

Up until then, they’ve always been a trainee, but on that moment, for the 

first time, they are called an Airman. It’s a very special day. A lot of them 

have tears in their eyes. We call them Airmen; so, why do we go back 

later and say our troops this, and our troops that. No, they are Airmen. 

You would never call a Marine a troop—they are Marines. They love being 

called a Marine. I like to see that esprit de corps in our Airmen, that pride 

to be an Airman. That’s always stuck with me, and I make it a point to talk 

about it.

Makes perfect sense. So you became a command chief 

in 2001, prior to the September 11 attacks. 

Yes.

When the attacks happened, and you saw, maybe, the 

future—where we might be heading as an Air Force. 

What were your major thoughts or concerns then?

Well, on 9/11 I was actually flying across the Atlantic Ocean on my 

way to the First Sergeant Academy graduation. The announcement came 

over the intercom about the first plane going into the tower, and I thought, 

well this is not a humorous thing to be talking about. It sounded like the 

pilot was joking. And then they came back and said another plane had hit, 

and then Washington—the Pentagon.

Our plane got diverted to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and we landed at 

1:30 in the afternoon. We sat in that plane until 4:30 in the morning. We 

were on the ramp, because there were so many planes; they didn’t have 

anywhere for us to go. I remember we watched Shrek three times while we 

were sitting there. Finally, they brought a school bus to pick us up at 4:30 

in the morning. They took us to a hotel, and they had sheets and a pillow on 

the floor for us to lie on. We hadn’t seen any footage yet; so, we were all out 

in the hallways watching the TV.

I had to call my wife, Paula, because she didn’t know where I was. All 

she knew was I was going to Gunter [AFB, Alabama], but she didn’t know I 

was in Halifax, or where I was; so, I finally got to tell her I was okay.

We stayed there for a couple days, until we were able to get out 

of there and get our luggage. They cancelled the First Sergeant Academy 

graduation; so, I went back to Ramstein [AB, Germany]. As soon as I got 

back there, life changed—life changed forever. We were checking all the 

vehicles coming through the gates, we had the barriers put up, and we had 

several white powder incidents that we knew we needed to check out.

So, we had all kinds of scary stuff going on. I knew things had 

changed forever. Afghanistan came shortly after that—and here we are today. 

That day changed us all and changed our military forever. Security on bases 

will never be like it was prior to 9/11 again.

236
You were right there at the center when Operation 

Iraqi Freedom started; you were actually the 

command chief for the 379th Air Expeditionary 

Wing at Al Udeid Air Base, Qatar.

Yes. I was the command chief at the 379th when we kicked off 

the war in March 2003. I got there in January to help set the base up. We 

had so many aircraft and personnel coming from different locations, to 

include Australia and Great Britain; so, we really built tent city up very 

big. When I arrived, I think our base population was around 1,800. By 

the time the war started, we were up to 6,700. Then we kicked off Iraqi 

Freedom from right there at the 379th, on that very first night of shock 

and awe.2

We were flying tremendous missions nonstop. We had about 

150 fighter jets on the ground, and they were just going nonstop. We had 

Airmen there working around the clock, doing a fantastic job. You go to 

war, and it’s amazing to see people come together and turn an aircraft so 

fast and just do a great job. So, it was a great experience for me. I’m very 

fortunate that I was chosen to go there and be the command chief at a 

location that was so important when we kicked the war off.

You answered it briefly, but what are your 

thoughts on the quality of the Airmen you were 

leading at that time?

I never had any problems with any Airmen there. We didn’t have 

any incidents, as I recall, of Airmen doing stupid stuff. We had some very 

strict guidelines we followed, as far as drinking and other things, and we 

followed the guidelines. I met with all our first sergeants on a regular 

basis, as well as our chiefs, and I met and had breakfast every morning with 

the top people from the British and the Australian air forces, just to make 

sure we were all in sync. You know, it’s all about relationships—success 

is about relationships and how you treat people, how you talk to them. 

So, I worked really hard on those relationships, to take care of our people 

and keep them out of trouble, because we were at war, and I didn’t want 

anybody getting in trouble.

We started a recognition program there. We had formal retreats. 

We only had a little, tiny, dinky flag, so I put some big flags up—to include 

the British, the Australian, and Qatari flags—just to get us all together 

working as one team. I thought it was really important to keep people 

focused, because we were part of history, and it would be a shame for 

someone to be sent back home for doing something really stupid. I was 

really thankful for the leadership we had there. It was a great experience.

If you could talk about the Airmen then, compared to 

the Airmen that served when you came in or in the ’80s, 

what would you say would be a difference?

There is a huge difference. When I came in, in 1974, we still had a 

lot of people in the Air Force that possibly came in the Air Force because 

they didn’t necessarily want to be in another service. We had probably 

700,000 people in the Air Force. There were probably, 5,500 chief master 

sergeants in 1974—only 12 were female.

We were in the middle of what we called race relations. We had 

race riots on an Air Force base, and the civilian community didn’t like the 

military; it was not popular to be in uniform. As young Airmen, we mowed 

the yards, we took out the trash, we cleaned everybody’s cigarette butts at 

the end of the day, off of their desks. We were doing things then that, thank 

God, Airmen don’t have to do today.

We had so many people. In the dorms, my first sergeant was living 

in the room next to me. He was a master sergeant, and he lived right next 

door. He was a great first sergeant, but he lived in the dorms. We had a lot 

of NCOs living in the dorms. Nowadays, you will not find NCOs living in the 

same dorms as our most junior Airmen; we stopped that a long time ago.

I think the quality of Airmen we have serving today, the quality of 

the education that we have today, is fantastic.

One thing I do miss ... I think we had more camaraderie back then. 

We did more things together, as far as the sports. We had a recreation center on base, and we’d always go there and play pool and ping pong; we did a 

lot of things together as a unit. The clubs were always packed full.

It’s a different Air Force, and I say, thank God. An Airman today, 

when they finish their job, they want to go home to their families. It’s a more 

professional corps today. In our Professional Development Guide there 

used to be an entire chapter debating whether or not enlisted Airmen are 

professional. I took that chapter out. I don’t even want people debating 

whether or not enlisted Airmen are professional. We are professionals. 

Every Airman should be proud to be an Airman and proud of what they bring 

to the fight.

237
Absolutely. You quickly moved up to the ranks, if you 

will, through the levels of command as a command 

chief, and then became the 15th Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force in 2006. What went 

through your mind when General Moseley 

called you and said, “Hey, you’re it”?

Well, as I said before, I never expected to be the Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force. When General Hester said, “Hey, Chief, 

number 14 is retiring.” I said, “Yes, sir. I know that,” and he said, “Well, 

you need to be number 15.” I said, “Sir, I’m busy. I’ve got a lot of things 

going on in the Pacific. I just want to stay focused on what I’m doing here.” 

He said, “Well, Chief, that’s all great, but I’m putting you in anyway.”

I went back to work, and I was surprised that I was in the final five 

to be interviewed. Then we got notified that General Moseley was going 

to be making the phone calls. So, he called at 7:30 in the morning. I got 

on the phone with him, and he said, “Good morning, partner, how are 

you doing?” I said, “Sir, I’m doing great. Hopefully, you are doing well.” 

And he said, “Well, I need you to come to Washington, DC, and be my 

wingman.” I said, “Sir, I’m incredibly humbled. Thank you very much.” 

And he said, “Okay, goodbye,” and he hung up. I was thinking, “Dang, 

that was quick.”

Then, man, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I just sat back in my chair 

and thought, “Wow, I’m going to be the Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force. We are fighting two wars. We have Airmen in the fight every 

second of every day. We have Airmen being wounded, we have Airmen 

being killed, and I’m going to be their Chief.”

I called my wife and told her. We didn’t have a party to celebrate 

or anything. It was great being named the Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force—and all the congratulations that come with it—but again, I was 

just thinking that we were at war. We have Airmen coming home killed in 

action, and this is serious.

There are some things maybe I would have thought about doing 

while I was the Chief, but the focus was on all the Airmen deploying, the 

Airmen in harm’s way. We needed to do everything we could to provide 

them the safety they needed, the equipment they needed, the training they 

needed, and the leadership they needed to come back.

We weren’t successful in that. We had many Airmen die, and 

that was the worst day in my Air Force career—every day I was notified 

that another Airman died, or another Airman was wounded, or another 

Airman committed suicide. I took every one of those personal. 

It was an incredibly humbling experience being the Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force. Every second of every day I was the Chief, we 

were in two wars; so, that was my focus. The whole time I was there, I 

was trying to take care of Airmen and their families and testifying before 

Congress to make sure the conditions were right for us to be successful.

It was definitely a challenging time. We had so much 

going on, on top of the two wars, and still, during your 

tenure there was quite a bit of change.

Yes.

One of them being, despite the war going on, we had a 

bit of a drawdown with the Program Budget Decision 

(PBD). I’m sure that was a tough decision.

Yes, the PBD 720.3 That started while I was in PACAF and it was to 

drawdown 40,000 people. There were a tremendous number of meetings 

about how we would do it, and where all the bodies would come from, and 

that was a difficult thing.

As a matter of fact, when Secretary [Robert M.] Gates came on, I 

had a meeting with him and my peers from the other branches of service. He 

said, “Rod, what do you see as the number one issue in the Air Force right 

now?” Without hesitation I said, “The number one issue I see as I go visit 

Airmen is the downsizing we are going through.”

At that point in time, we were at about 324,000 Airmen, and we 

were on our way down to 314. I would go out and visit our maintenance 

units, and it was clear we were killing our maintainers. We didn’t have 

enough people. We were so shorthanded, and we were standing up [ Air 

Force Global Strike Command]; we were taking on cyber missions.4

 We 

were building more missions but not getting more people, and we still had 

to go down another 10,000.

As soon as I left that meeting, I went to see General Moseley and 

told him what I had told Secretary Gates. I told him about the downsizing, 

and said I really think we should be at 330,000. He said, “That’s fantastic, 

Rod. Thanks.” After that, General Moseley, myself, and Secretary [of the 

Air Force Michael W.] Wynne signed a letter to the Secretary of Defense 

asking the Air Force to grow back to 330,000.

Later on, when the Secretary of Defense fired the Secretary of the Air 

Force and Chief of Staff of the Air Force, at the end of one of his statements, 

he said, “I am also ordering the Air Force to go back to 330,000.”

The downsizing I saw as very tough, but you know, everything you 

do is about budget. When you go back to 330, it’s budget—it’s money. 

You’re always determining, what is the right number of Airmen that should 

be on active duty, Guard, Reserve, and how much of your budget are you 

willing to spend on personnel? I mean, that’s huge. All the senior leaders in 

the Air Force better understand budget very, very well, because that’s the 

driving force in everything we need to accomplish. Taking care of Airmen, 

recapitalizing our fleet—everything—you’ve got to be able to talk budget and 

spend your money wisely.

238
You mentioned that the Secretary and Chief of 

Staff were fired, and a lot of that was because the 

nuclear mishaps happening at that time.5 What do you 

recall about the B-52 incident and the moment the 

leadership was relieved?

Well, on the day that happened, I remember I stepped outside of 

my office into the hallway, and Gen. Moseley had stepped out of his office 

down the hallway. He yelled at me to come down there, so I went down 

there, and Gen. Moseley said, “You are not going to believe this. I just 

found out we flew a B-52 from Minot [AFB], North Dakota, to Barksdale 

[AFB, Louisiana]. It’s been sitting on the ramp for several hours, and they 

just figured out it has live nukes on it.”

I’m previous aircraft maintenance. I know the nuclear side of the 

house, and I could not fathom how that could have possibly happened. 

Then Gen. Moseley said, “Now I’m on my way to go tell President Bush.” 

And I said, “Well, tell him the truth. Tell him everything right up front.” 

He said, “I will,” and took off. That moment, I felt so bad for Gen. Moseley. 

He had to go tell the President of the United States that we just flew a 

B-52 from North to South with live nukes on it. It sat on a ramp, and the 

Air Force did not know it. It wasn’t his fault, but yet he had to take the 

heat for it.

That was not—in my opinion, that was not the reason he got fired. 

I think it was multiple disagreements between the Secretary of the Air 

Force and Chief of Staff of the Air Force [on one side] and the Secretary 

of Defense [on the other], and ultimately the Secretary [of Defense] 

pulling the trigger and saying, “You guys are out of here,” which was a 

very difficult day on all of us.

I was there when it happened. We were at Corona, and that was 

a very difficult time. Gen. Moseley hired me, and it was very emotional to 

see my boss go out like that. He loved the Air Force so much. I truly loved 

and respected Gen.Moseley.

What about the aftermath of that incident?

 How did the leadership look at keeping the Air Force 

motivated and moving forward?

It’s the first time in our country’s history we’ve lost a Secretary and 

a Chief of Staff all at once. Right after that, there was so much commotion 

going on. I remember telling some senior leaders, “Hey, look, we’ve 

got to keep our heads up. We feel bad for Secretary Wynne and General 

Moseley, but we are still in two wars. We still have Airmen in harm’s way. 

We’ve got to lead.”

There were even questions about whether or not I should resign. 

I asked Gen. Moseley, and he said no. He said, “The Air Force needs you 

now more than ever.” So, with that, I decided I was going to lead. I tried to 

be the best leader I could through a tough situation, a transition from Gen. 

Moseley to the acting chief, Gen. [Duncan J.] McNabb, to the confirmation 

of Gen. [Norton A.] Schwartz.

That was a very, very tough time, but at the end of the day, we still 

had Airmen in harm’s way. We had to lead. We had to step up and make sure 

we were taking care of our Airmen.

Throughout your tenure, you said one of your guiding 

principles was our heritage. You were involved in a lot 

of changes that shaped our heritage, one of them being 

uniforms. We almost went back to an older service 

dress uniform. We started talking about it, but didn’t 

do it. Can you share some stories there?

Well, there was a big push to go back to a new heritage uniform. A 

lot of work and a lot of money went into that. Our senior leadership really 

liked the idea. After Gen. Moseley was out of the office, we had a meeting 

at Corona, and Gen. Schwartz decided he wanted to put it to bed or move 

forward with it.

We were at Corona with all the generals, and it was about a 50/50 

split with the four stars who were there on whether or not they wanted the 

heritage uniform. Then they came to me, and Gen. Schwartz said, “Chief, 

what do the Airmen think?” I said, “Well, I have the uniform. I like the 

uniform, but I’ve probably visited more Airmen in the Air Force than 

anybody else, and I think I have a good feel for what the Airmen think.

“First off, we have ABUs [Airman battle uniform] that are too hot, 

and we need lighter-weight ABUs. We have PT gear that everybody hates; 

you can hear us coming 20 minutes away. We don’t have cold-weather gear 

for some cold-weather locations; so, we’ve got to get cold-weather gear to 

them. We have multiple boots; we need to figure out what type of boot we 

are going to wear with our uniforms. So the thought of Airmen out there is, 

before we go spend a lot of money on a new service dress, we need to fix our 

existing problems.”

I’ll stick with that as a very true statement; 98 percent of Airmen felt 

that way. With that, we no longer pursued the new service dress. Hopefully, 

we’ve fixed the other problems I mentioned. I know we’ve got a lighter ABU 

now; we changed the PT gear. Hopefully, we’ve gotten cold-weather gear, 

and I think we’ve got the boots fixed.

239
240
241
You mentioned the ABU. I know you were there 

when that was introduced.

Yes. I was part of the test for the new ABU. When we tested the 

ABU while I was the PACAF command chief, it was really light—it was very 

comfortable. I liked it a lot. It was almost like we were in pajamas. You 

could roll it up and take it out, but when they came out, they were much 

thicker. It was nothing like what I tested.

So I immediately said these ABUs are too hot. The typical answer 

right then was, cut the inside pockets out. Well, that’s not a good answer. 

When we spend a fortune buying these new ABUs, and they are too hot, 

the answer is to go cut the inside pockets out? I was on a journey from 

then on to try to get us new ABUs that were lighter. We are at war in the 

desert. Our Airmen that were deployed to the desert, they had to wear 

these very thick ABUs, and they were not finding them very good.

The uniform is always a very controversial subject. People either 

like them or hate them or—it’s a tough subject.

And still is.

Oh, yes. You cannot please everybody, that’s for sure. I’ve always 

been big on heritage. Before I became a command chief, I really liked the 

history and heritage of our Airmen, but who really shaped my thinking on 

enlisted heritage, was the first Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, 

Paul Airey.

I was at Gunter, and we were having lunch at the club. I was 

the command chief at the 1st Fighter Wing at Langley [AFB, Virginia] 

at the time, and I said, “Chief, when can I get you to visit our Airmen at 

Langley?” And, man, just (finger snap) like that, Chief Airey got mad, he 

got angry. He goes, “Dammit, Rod, I’m never going to visit that place.” I 

was taken back, because Chief and I had a great relationship.

I said, “Chief, what’s up? Why are you so angry about this?” And 

he goes, “Well, because Langley published a book about the history of 

Langley, and they only mentioned an enlisted person one time—and that 

was an enlisted crew chief. They didn’t even put the name down. They 

have a lot of pilots’ names, a lot of history in this book, but nowhere in 

there did they talk about the enlisted contributions to Langley. I’m not 

going back there.” And he didn’t.

After that, I really started thinking about our heritage, and what 

we can do for our enlisted force to respect our heritage. When I was the 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, we decided to go back to the 

circled collar brass insignia on the service dress uniform. That’s our 

enlisted heritage. If you go back and look at all the photos, the enlisted 

had a circled US insignia. That, and to put stripes back on the sleeves for 

SNCOs. Not because I was still saluting the senior enlisted, but we grew 

up as enlisted Airmen with our stripes on our sleeves.

Then, myself and my assistant, SMSgt. [Gerardo] Tapia, were riding 

around Lackland [AFB, Texas], doing a visit. I had just come back from 

visiting the Air Force Academy. At the Air Force Academy there’s a place 

where they have footprints in the concrete, and it symbolizes all of those that 

came before you. I thought that was neat, and it was for all the new cadets 

coming through there. You don’t know how many people have stepped in 

those footprints.

So, I thought, what can we do on the enlisted side of the house? 

It needed to be at Lackland. That’s the Gateway to the Air Force for 

the enlisted force; so, it would be neat if we could do something on the 

parade ground.

I came up with the Enlisted Heroes Walk. We put a paver for each 

of our Medal of Honor recipients, Air Force Cross, the Silver Star, and so 

forth. We came up with that idea, and we talked to the leadership there at 

Lackland and they pushed it forward. Then in January of 2009, I did the 

dedication speech for it.

The idea is on BMT Graduation Day, as they take that column left, 

they are going to be walking across each one of those names. They still add 

more names, unfortunately, as we get more. It gives you a little lump in your 

throat when you think about what you are doing, and the names you are 

marching over. It kind of starts that thinking about heritage as you graduate 

basic training.

We dedicated the walk, and then a chief friend of mine that was in 

Vietnam wrote me a nice letter and said the Enlisted Heritage Walk was 

so special to him. He had a friend that died in Vietnam. He was a Silver 

Star recipient, and no one knew about him. It was like he was no longer in 

history, but yet, he has a paver now.

So, it’s just a way to honor those Airmen, and think a little bit more 

about our heritage, because it’s super special. Each branch of service has 

their own heritage, and our enlisted Airmen should really learn more about 

those that came before and be proud of where they come from.

You also did a couple other things that you could say 

reflect our heritage, specifically the Airman’s Creed 

and Air Force Memorial.

Yes. The Air Force Memorial, we dedicated that on 14 October 

2006, and that was the most special day in my Air Force career. That was 

such a special event, to attend that with so many people from throughout 

Air Force history. We had about 40,000 people in the audience. We 

did speeches, and we had the flyovers of historical aircraft. President 

Bush spoke, as did the Secretary of Defense, Secretary of the Air Force, 

Chief of Staff of the Air Force, and then me. To be a part of that event was 

just tremendous.

242
And your signature is one of the spires, is that right?

It is. General Moseley and I both signed the tip of the tallest spire. 

I have a picture of that. And it’s in permanent ink; so, our signatures are 

still up at the top today.

What about the Airman’s Creed? As I recall, 

you had a couple of different options there—

some great, some quite humorous. Then you settled 

on one and brought it with you through Europe to 

test it out. How do that go, and how did the creed 

we know today become final?

Well, you’re right. I had a great trip to all the bases in Europe, 

and at the end of each of the All Calls, I recited the Airman’s Creed that 

we really liked, and I had a great response from it. When I got back to the 

Pentagon, I saw General Moseley in the hallway and told him what I had 

done and that the response was tremendous. I said, “I think it’s time to go 

with it.” He said, “Really?” I said, “Yes, sir, I do.” And he said, “Okay, 

I’m going to send you an e-mail this afternoon, give me a response, and 

tell me what you think.”

He sent me an e-mail that afternoon, a very concise e-mail about 

the new Airman’s Creed that replaces all other creeds, that this is the only 

creed, and so forth. I sent it back to him and said, “Sir, this is great. It all 

looks good.” He said, “Okay, meet me in my office tomorrow morning at 

7:30, and we’ll talk about it.”

So, I met him at 7:30 the next morning. It was me, him, and a 

reporter, Bruce Rolfsen, from the Air Force Times. We talked about some 

other issues, then General Moseley said, “Rod, are we going to do this?” I 

said, “Yes, sir, let’s do this.” He said, “Okay, we are going to go for it. We 

have a new Airman’s Creed,” and he handed the paper to the reporter. He 

said, “I want you to print this in the next issue of the Air Force Times, as 

the official Airman’s Creed.”

With that, General Moseley went over to his computer and hit 

send on the message. So, the Airman’s Creed was born on that day. And if 

anybody asks me who wrote the Airman’s Creed, my response is Airmen 

wrote the Airman’s Creed. It took an effort from the whole Air Force to 

create the Airman’s Creed.

What do you remember about the initial response 

after the creed was announced? I mean from the 

Airmen across the Air Force, not just in Europe 

when you initially shared it, but just generally, 

what was the response?

Well, there was a lot of response, a lot of great response, and then 

some not good, because you had organizations that were hanging on to 

some of their old creeds. They thought those other creeds that were out 

there were official creeds. They weren’t; they were just made up, and they 

had used them for a long period of time. But there were no creeds for the Air 

Force—nothing that the Air Force had come out and said, this is our creed.

So, there was a negative response that came out, and there still is 

today, I’m sure. But you think about today, probably 60 to 70 percent of 

the Air Force today, the only creed they’ve ever had is this Airman’s Creed. 

I think the creed itself is something powerful. You read every word in there, 

and it’s special. There’s nothing in there that I think people could say, 

“Yeah, this is wrong, this is wrong.”

Several years ago, I was talking to a crowd, and I was taking questions 

from tech sergeants and staff sergeants at a lunch. A tech sergeant spoke up 

and said, “I’m communications. I’m not a warrior. This Airman’s Creed, 

and it says I’m warrior. I’m not a warrior.” I said, “You’re not?” And he 

said, “No.” So, I said, “You know, it’s amazing because, when we kicked 

a war off, we had people that were driving on base—transportation guys—

and the next thing you know they are driving convoys in Iraq. And we’ve 

had different AFSCs that are now doing things that they never thought they 

would ever be doing before. So, you never know, whatever AFSC you are, 

what day will come that you will be at war. Plus, every single day you open 

your computer, you have a cyber war going on right there—every single day. 

So, no matter what AFSC you are, you are a warrior.”

243
One of the other things that helped establish the 

warrior mind-set was physical fitness and the shift 

we made to become a more fit force. Can you talk 

about your experience with it?

During my whole Air Force career, I always was in athletics, and 

I always thought we should be physically fit, and for the most part, I think 

we were. We really tried to make sure our Airmen looked the part and 

were physically fit, and we had all kinds of different programs.

Then we went to that silly bicycle for a while, which I absolutely 

hated. But anyway, it got to the point when I was the chief where I was 

seeing a lot people that were obviously not even close to being fit. So, I 

went to our personnel team and I said, “Give me all the statistics on how 

many people were passing the PT test, and the statistics showed that, man, 

we were one absolutely fit Air Force.

This was the bike test?

No. This is our current, the first version of the PT test we had. 

This is well after the bike test; this is when I was the Chief. 

Great. 

So, the PT results showed that we were very fit. As a matter of fact, 

we probably had a better passing rate than the Marines, but I wasn’t seeing 

this with my first sergeant–calibrated eyes. I see a lot of Airmen on bases 

when I go visit that are obviously way overweight, and if they are saying 

they are passing their PT test, something is wrong here. 

So, I asked the Air Force Audit Agency to audit the PT program. 

I said, “Just take the current AFI [Air Force instruction] we have and go 

out there and see if we, as Airmen, are following the AFI. If we are doing 

that, fine. Come back and tell me. If we are not, come back and give me 

some recommendations.”

So, they went out and visited two bases, and they came back and 

said, “Chief, we’ve got problems.” And I said, “I know we do; now go 

finish it.” So, they went to, I think around 15 or 16 different bases. It was 

a very extensive audit, at all locations—cold weather, altitude, you name it, 

overseas. And they came back with an Air Force audit that was ugly.

The thing that really bothered me about it was that a lot of it 

dealt with integrity. There were a lot of tests that were falsified. Waist 

measurements were off by as much as seven inches, and it was just ugly. 

It really reeked of not following one of our core values, which is integrity. 

So, I sent that audit to the Chief of Staff, A1, medical, and MAJCOM 

[major command] commanders and MAJCOM command chiefs. When 

they received the results of the audit, things happened very quickly.

In PACAF, Gen. [Carrol “Howie”] Chandler made some changes 

there immediately. He had different people that were doing the tests, and 

then later on, we went down the road and established a new PT program with 

integrity. With that, we started seeing Airmen getting out and getting more 

physically fit. We had more focus on better fitness centers.

I think the results we have now—you have a whole lot more Airmen 

fit. It helps them in the combat areas and is also going to decrease health 

issues. I was the DOD spokesperson for quit smoking, also; so, it’s a total 

health and fitness thing I was going after.

Why do you think it was difficult to really establish 

a fitness culture at first, when we stepped away 

from the bike test?

Well, Gen. [CSAF John P.] Jumper and Chief [CMSAF Gerald R.] 

Murray went to the new PT test during their tenure, and that was a good 

thing. When I got in there, and I started traveling around, I saw, in my 

opinion, integrity issues. People said they were passing the test, and I was 

looking and thinking, there is no way. Someone that obviously has a 46-inch 

waist is not going to pass the test, and why do we have someone in the Air 

Force with a 46-inch waist anyway?

Now the goal, as a leader, is not to kick everybody out, but as a 

leader, as a supervisor, is to keep your team physically fit. If you see a person 

starting to get out of standards, you keep them in standards. That’s why I 

said my greatest accomplishment in my Air Force career is people, because 

I would never let my Airmen get out of standards. You know, if I see my 

Airmen not wearing the uniform properly, or I see them gaining weight, 

my goal is to get them back into being the best Airman that they could be. 

How does an Airman get to the point where they are so far out of standards, 

and those supervisors just turn the eye, and look the other way? That’s not 

leadership. I think we had a lot of that going on.

When the new PT test came out, I think January of 2009, we gave 

everybody many months to get into standards. So, it’s not like, “Okay, here 

is the result, and you’ve got to have these new standards tomorrow.” You 

had nine months to get ready, or more. If someone can’t get ready in nine 

months, either there’s a medical condition, they don’t care, or they are so far 

out of standards that they can’t get there.

The goal was not to kick people out of the Air Force. If we have a 

program, it’s about integrity. We don’t pick and choose which AFI to follow. 

If this is what the standard is, if you meet that standard, good. If you don’t, 

you have to recognize that. Don’t fudge the numbers; don’t falsify records. 

We are an Air Force of integrity, and that disappointed me a lot, to see the 

audit results, and it obviously disappointed the MAJCOM commanders, 

command chiefs, and our senior leadership, because we knew we had to 

make changes.

244
I’m thankful they all stood up and did that. We are a much better 

Air Force today because of it. It also gives us a lot more respect from the 

other branches of service. We’ve all heard that thing before—the “chair 

force”—that hurts me to the core. I don’t want people to look at us and 

think we are the chair force. We are the mightiest Air Force that’s ever 

walked the face of the earth, or flown over it, so it’s a lot to be proud out.

One last question. When you look at Airmen today—

when you look at the Air Force and see everything 

you’ve seen throughout your tenure with the Air 

Force, both before you retired and now after—

if you had to say something about those Airmen, 

and had to begin the sentence with “I believe,” 

what would you say?

I believe serving our country is a tremendous honor that we should 

take to the grave. That we have had the opportunity to wear the uniform of 

our country, and serve and protect, is something we should be proud of, 

and our children and friends should be proud of. So, I believe wearing the 

uniform is the highest honor we can do for our country.

245
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

James A. Roy

July 1, 2009 - January 24, 2013

James Roy was born on 18 May 

1964 in the small town of Monroe, 

Michigan, just a short drive south from 

Detroit. In the early ’80s, the local 

economy did not offer a great opportunity 

for Roy and his newlywed spouse, Ms. 

Paula, so he decided to raise his right 

hand and join the Air Force. Not long 

after, they both knew the Air Force was 

the life for them.

Roy entered the Air Force as a 

heavy equipment operator and quickly 

learned to appreciate the busy lifestyle 

of a civil engineer. After his first as-

signment to MacDill AFB, Florida, he 

spent much of his early Air Force years 

in the Pacific—at both Osan and Kunsan 

Air Bases, South Korea, and Andersen 

AFB, Guam. Throughout his career, he 

gained a unique understanding of the 

joint force, working and training alongside Soldiers, Marines, and Sailors. 

The joint perspective developed into a 

passion for joint and combined oper-

ations that stuck with him through his 

years as an Air Force command chief and 

his tenure as the senior enlisted leader of 

U.S. Pacific Command.

In June 2009 Gen Norton 

Schwartz selected Roy as the 16th 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

(CMSAF), the first time a CMSAF was 

selected from a combatant command. 

Roy focused his efforts in three key areas: 

building and working within joint and 

coalition teams, deliberate development, 

and resiliency of our Airmen and families. 

He led the Air Force through the 

drawdown of Operation Iraqi Freedom, 

the push to build the next generation 

of enlisted professional military 

education (PME), and the greater focus 

on the joint force. He retired from the 

Air Force on 24 January 2013 after 

30 years of service.

In December 2015 Roy sat down 

in his home for an interview to discuss 

his Air Force career and tenure as the 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. 

During the interview he talked about his 

passion for the joint and combined force, 

the concerns and challenges following 

the departure from Iraq in 2011, and the 

importance of deliberately developing 

enlisted Airmen. The following are 

edited experts from the conversation.

246
Chief, you joined our Air Force out of Monroe, 

Michigan. What pushed you toward the Air Force 

when you joined?

The reason I joined the Air Force in 1982 out of Monroe, 

Michigan, was simple. There wasn’t a lot going on in Monroe, around 

Detroit. There wasn’t a lot economy-wise and quite frankly, Ms. Paula and 

I had decided we were going to marry and this was the way to get a better 

education, get training, and possibly go back to Monroe, Michigan. As we 

all know, that never happened, but that was the primary reason.

A lot was driven by the economy, but it didn’t take us long once 

we joined the Air Force and got in with the team to decide that, you know 

what, this is a good thing. This provides adequately for us—the training, the 

education, the whole concept of the team. We had never been associated 

with that before; so, for us we just wanted to be a part of this outstanding 

team, and we still want to be a part of the team, and obviously are. But 

yeah, little Monroe, Michigan . . .

Little Monroe, Michigan, that’s cool. When you first 

got to basic military training (BMT), you and 

Ms. Paula were married—

We were. We got married in August and entered the Air Force on 

the 13th of September 1982.

You did get a honeymoon first, right?

We did, in Tennessee. Shortly after we married, I went off to basic 

training, you know, six weeks of absolute joy.

What was that like in the early ’80s, 

compared to what it’s like today?

Obviously, having gone back to Lackland AFB [Texas] many, 

many times—wow, has it really changed, and I would say for the good. I 

think it’s more the caliber of people—the caliber of our Airmen that are 

NCOs [noncommissioned officers] that lead and train those Airmen, I 

think, has really increased.

To me, going there in 1982, it was all a new world to me. I had 

never been out of Monroe, Michigan, except a little bit in Ohio. So, off I 

went to the big city of San Antonio [Texas]. You got in there and you had 

to follow directions, follow orders, and quite frankly, I had no problems 

with that. It was always fairly easy for me.

I think I had a great TI [training instructor] at the time. I made a 

couple of friends along the way through basic training, but obviously, after 

basic training, you parted ways to tech school. It was a little different than 

what it is today. I think people are seeking a different opportunity, if you 

will. For us, it was a matter of a better opportunity. I think there is a lot 

of opportunity out there today in the civilian sector, and I think at that 

particular time, there probably wasn’t quite as much; so, we felt we needed 

this—and it grew on you.

You got there and got in the swing of the routine, the battle rhythm 

of basic training, and it was one of those things you don’t ever forget. I’ve 

told others that basic training is the foundation. Regardless if you joined in 

1982 or 2015, basic training is the foundation of that Airmanship.

The facility is a little different obviously. The type of training is a 

little different. Quite honestly, the training at that particular time, it was 

training, but I would say it wasn’t the same level of precision or the same 

level of experience.

I often give the example of when we got ready to go out to shoot 

our weapon—the one and only time we went out to shoot our weapon. It was 

raining that day; so, we certainly couldn’t go out and shoot our weapon in 

the rain (Laughter). We had to forego that; so, the first time I shot a weapon 

in the military was later at my first duty station. You know, same thing with 

the obstacle course. What that was then versus what it is today, with the week 

that we have down there with Airmen in the field. The fact that we provide 

them a weapon within the first week, the whole idea of “warrior” is instilled 

in those Airmen from day one. I think it is just absolutely tremendous. We 

didn’t get that; it was a little bit different of an experience.

I think we all ended up good Airmen, but that was one of the reasons 

we changed it. Obviously, myself, along with many of the other former Chief 

Master Sergeants of the Air Force changed it because we felt there needed 

to be a sense of Warriorship—a sense of Airmanship—instilled within 

basic training.

Yeah, you can certainly see that now over the years, 

especially recently.

It’s different now. 

247
Absolutely. You graduated BMT and went through 

tech school—you entered the Air Force as a heavy 

equipment operator. What was your first 

impression of Airmen?

Well, it was at the beginning of my career that I really got exposed 

to this idea of jointness. I went off to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, 

as a heavy equipment operator, and you know, getting that training 

with Soldiers—the Marines had just left, the Sailors had just left, but we 

certainly trained with Soldiers every day—we got to understand a little 

bit more about the other services. In a large degree, you appreciate the 

service you join; in other ways, you appreciate what your joint partners 

bring to the fight.

What I always found about the Air Force is that we expect a lot of 

our Airmen. When I talk with Soldiers, I always talk about the fact that I 

grew up in the 62 model, if you will. The 62 Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Juliet—

those are all areas I grew up in in the Air Force.1 The Air Force trained you 

in all of those, and they expected you to take that to your first duty station, 

whether that was deployed or somewhere else, and know how to operate 

those pieces of equipment. I think learning what the Army required 

was kind of an eye-opener to us. It wasn’t combined as much as it is in 

the Air Force.

We bring great people in our military, in our Air Force. I have 

seen and I grew up with great Airmen that I still stay in touch with today. 

And that’s really what it’s about—the attachment you make with people 

while you’re serving. Some of those friends I made, a few of them have 

gone off to do other things, even while I was still in the military. A lot have 

retrained, a couple went off to get their commission, a couple are in the 

reserves, one in the Guard, and so you got to see it from all angles. For 

me, going to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, was my very first exposure to 

a joint community and, in large part even, our total force because we had 

Reserve and Guard Airmen in our class and we got to know and understand 

them a little better.

You talked about the Air Force as a family, when did 

that first dawn on you? Was it at tech school, 

at basic training, or was it at your first assignment?

Well, as far as the team is concerned, I think you realize that right 

from the get go, when you get to basic training. You know, it’s kind of the 

Airmen, the trainees against the TI—in a positive way, because that’s who is 

training you. You want to work together as a team to accomplish the goals 

the TI has for you. Then when you get to technical school, it’s kind of the 

same way. The idea is to learn as much as you can in that team concept. 

Yeah, you can be a good operator, you can be a good technician, but the 

whole team has to succeed.

For me and Ms. Paula, the idea of family began when we got to 

MacDill AFB as the first duty station. We realized, “Wow, this is pretty 

nice.” She was working at the local credit union there, and I was obviously 

very busy. The family idea kind of got its first gen there, but I think during 

subsequent assignments, we really began to understand the whole idea of 

the entire family.

To go back to the idea of being an airman basic. It’s somewhat 

comical; we used to park across the street from the shop, and it would be 

dark. It was the fall or winter season, and I would walk across the road. I had 

no stripes; so, about three or four times, walking across the street, I would 

get saluted, and I couldn’t understand why. Then I’d get to the shop, and 

they would say, “Oh, it’s Roy. I wish you would hurry up and make a stripe 

because we’re thinking you’re a lieutenant.” It was somewhat comical, but I 

became very close friends with some of those folks at that shop. We used to 

work on cars, and go to car shows; so, that really taught us what it was to be 

part of a team, a winning team, and to be part of a family.

I often talk about my very first supervisor, TSgt Nathan Heard. 

He was a staff sergeant at the time, and I have the deepest appreciation 

for Nathan Heard. He was a person I looked up to. When he told me that I 

had 30 days to do my CDCs [career development course], it didn’t matter 

if it was January or February, you had 30 days, and he expected those to 

be done. He held you to that. But also, when Ms. Paula and I got there, he 

was the one that showed us where we might want to consider living, where 

we didn’t. It taught me my leadership foundation—it’s more about taking 

care of the Airmen than just what you do at the duty section every day. Tech 

Sergeant Heard, you know, he’s my hero. I have lost contact with him, but as 

a technical sergeant, I have the deepest appreciation for him. He taught me 

a lot, and I will always be in debt to Nate Heard.

248
Yeah, it’s definitely good to have those leaders 

right off the bat. You spent quite a few years in civil 

engineering, I think 17 years total. How did that 

experience shape you as a leader, a chief, 

and eventually the Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force?

When you’re a civil engineer, you always have something to 

do. There is always a mission; you’ll never be caught up. For me, going 

back to my first duty station, we always had that sense of mission. The 

aircraft wasn’t going to take off unless we first went out there and swept 

up the flight line and the runway. So, they relied on us, and we had that 

sense of mission.

The other part is a sense of mission accomplishment. I could 

go home every night knowing I completed what I started that day. The 

complete project may not be done, but the part I was working on that 

particular day had to be done before we went home. So, for me, maybe 

somewhat of a bad lesson, you don’t go home until it’s finished. That’s 

a good thing sometimes—most of the time—but it can be a bad thing at 

times as well.

I think it taught me to overcome adversity. When you’re in a duty 

section like that and you have more work than you can possibly ever do, you 

have to prioritize. Part of being the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

is prioritizing what the force needs at the particular time. I went back to 

my roots of, “Okay, prioritize this, and then how do you accomplish it?”

When Ms. Paula and I first stepped into the office, the first thing 

we did was sit down with the team. We sat with a mediator to help us 

define what it is we were going to focus on, and those are those three 

priorities.2

 Using the Chief of Staff of the Air Force and the Secretary 

of the Air Force’s priorities, we were able to gain those objectives that 

were required of the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force; the whole 

team was focused on those. That’s one of the things you realize as an 

engineer. You can’t do it all yourself. There is a lot of work that goes into 

a project, and you’re not going to complete it yourself. You have to rely on 

your teammates.

The other thing it taught me was, again, the early exposure to 

the joint team. I went right back to Fort Leonard Wood after a remote 

assignment, and I was standing out on the field, teaching Soldiers and 

Airmen how to operate the equipment. I understood that culture, and I 

still today understand that culture. I certainly don’t understand it as much 

as I do the Airmen culture, but I understand that culture. I understand 

what they bring to the fight.

I was exposed to a lot of Marines when I was deployed to Okinawa 

[Japan]. One story I share was that we were remodeling the NCO Academy 

at Kadena [Japan], and my particular job was all the driveways, the curbs, 

the sidewalks. That was my job, and quite frankly we didn’t have enough 

equipment to do the job. I went over to one of the Marine Corps bases and 

asked, “Hey, can I use some of your equipment to do this job?” For them, 

they didn’t have that type of work when they were in garrison. They trained, 

trained, and trained, but they didn’t have that real world experience. So, the 

agreement was, “Yeah, you can have the equipment, but you have to train 

some of our Marines.” So, again, I was exposed to our joint war fighters. 

It’s one of those things that, just by virtue of being a civil engineer, I was 

allowed the opportunity to see and work with our joint partners at that very 

tactical level.

You mentioned Okinawa. In the ’90s you spent quite a 

bit of time in the Pacific Theater. If you look back at 

the history of the Air Force in the ’90s, you hear a lot 

about operations in Europe, in places like Bosnia, Libya, 

Turkey, or Iraq. Can you tell us a little about what the 

Pacific was like during that time? 

Absolutely. Obviously, the focus was in Europe, but we still had 

some foes in the Pacific. North Korea was the biggest focus, and regardless 

if I was down in Okinawa, TDY [temporary duty], deployed, or there on 

the Korean Peninsula, the focus remained on North Korea. I have seen 

the grandfather, the father, and now the son in leadership power during 

my tenure. So, I somewhat understand what they’re going to do next, in 

some cases. It was different than what it is today. Having served as a US 

Pacific Command senior enlisted leader, I will tell you it’s still focused on 

North Korea, but there are other focuses as well. We are focused on many 

other countries that quite honestly are great partners; some others are 

a bit challenging.

During my tenure at the Pacific Command, I was able to travel to 

many of those locations and really work with our coalition partners. In fact, 

ADM [Timothy J.] Keating charged me to be the advocate and champion for 

the enlisted development of our coalition partners in theater. It allowed me 

an opportunity to get to know a lot of them at different levels and be able to 

share what we have as the U.S. Air Force and Department of Defense on 

growth and development.

One of the other ideas while we were in the office (of the Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force) was this whole idea of deliberate 

development. We have Airmanship—that we understand. We have always 

understood Airmanship like no other country; we are somewhat the epitome 

of Airmanship. But it was the other factors I really thought we needed to 

focus on—working with our joint partners, working with our coalition 

partners. That’s why we took on this whole idea of deliberate development—

the experience, education, and training. 

249
I look back at it now, and I think to myself, “My goodness.” 

When I first stepped in the office, we played okay. A lot of areas played 

very well with joint, but what we were trying to do is get the force at 

large to understand and appreciate the whole idea of what a joint partner 

means. How we can work together, what capabilities they bring, and what 

capabilities we can provide to that war fighter—also, what the coalition 

forces can bring, and what we can offer them.

When I would work with some of our allies, our joint partners and 

our coalition partners, it was easy for me to explain to them this idea of 

professionalism and the idea of mutual respect. In some cases, a country 

has a caste system of sorts and has a conscript force, where everybody 

serves versus our all-volunteer force; it’s a little bit different environment 

to work in. The idea that we can take the model we have as far as education, 

training, and experience and present that to our coalition partners and 

help them continue to develop—in some cases, helping them even start to 

develop—was a huge, huge asset to the Pacific Command commander, and 

it continues today.

As I look back on my time as the Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force, we were able to get a couple of our senior NCOs into the 

New Zealand senior leader course, and they got full credit for the US 

Air Force Senior NCO Academy. I think that says a lot about the level of 

professionalism of our force. Number one, our Airmen, they’re absolutely 

up for it. Number two, our Air Force is open to the idea that this is a good 

thing and this can be beneficial to the Airman, certainly the organization, 

and the commander when they call upon us.

I look back at those opportunities, and what we did with IAAFA 

(Inter-American Air Forces Academy) down in San Antonio. I visited 

there one time, a couple of times, but one time in particular, I went there 

and I asked the NCOs, “Why is it that we send our NCOs to Colombia 

or these other places in the Americas—South America, Mid America—we 

send our Airmen there, we teach the course, and we bring them to us to 

teach, but why don’t we attend the course with them?” The last time I 

visited, it was very gratifying to see and hear that they had done that. Our 

Airmen were able to go down range and go to school with their Colombian 

partners. They are going to be war fighters together and learn side by side. 

Then the fact that we can send some of our Spanish-speaking Airmen 

from across the Air Force back to IAAFA to sit with all these other nations 

and attend the exact same course, particularly the NCO Academy—that to 

me, I think, highlights the level of professionalism of our Airmen, and it 

certainly shows that the institution is open to that and sees value in what it 

does for our Airmen and the combatant commander.

If you go back to when you were initially in the Pacific, 

and you compare it to what it is now when it comes to 

the partnership aspect—it’s probably night and day, 

would you say?

Oh, it’s completely night and day. You know, I was there as a 

young senior airman. I was stationed at Osan and traveled around the entire 

peninsula. I was TDY to a lot of those locations for extended periods of time 

doing different projects. We knew that those were Korean air bases, but we 

never even knew the Koreans. We never associated. I look back at that now 

and I think, “Wow, how much more potent of a force could we have been if 

we could have just done that?”

I went back four years later. I went down to Kunsan and there were 

a lot of Republic of Korea Air Force [ROKAF] airmen at Kunsan, and we 

associated with them. We would have times where we could actually talk to 

them. They always had needs, and we always tried to help them. Of course, 

we needed their understanding of the peninsula, and they were able to share 

that with us. Fast-forward to 2007, now as the Pacific Command senior 

enlisted leader, it was completely different across the entire Pacific theatre 

of operation.

When you have a partner country that is going through a complete 

defense reform, and they ask you, as the United States, for assistance, that 

says an awful lot about our military. In particular, for us, it says an awful lot 

about the US Air Force and its ability to help those countries go through a 

reform—a defense reform—to raise their level of professionalism.

The whole idea behind this is, why is it that the US Airmen, the US 

Soldiers, Marines, Sailors, Coast Guardsmen are always first to the fight? 

Why shouldn’t it be the home team, whatever country that is? They should 

be the first defense. They should be first in the game. That was the idea, to 

raise their level of professionalism. As I look back at my tenure as the Pacific 

Command senior enlisted leader—and as the Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force—it wasn’t just about the Pacific; we did it in Europe as well. It was 

about working with our partners.

I think the other piece of this, the missing piece—it always came 

out in the end but it was never noticed up front—was how much our Airmen 

grow from being around coalition partners, how much our Airmen grow 

from being around our joint partners, and they do. You can see a complete 

difference. Those are the things we have got to continue to do if we are 

going to be of value to our combatant commanders that fight the wars.

250
While I was in the position of Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, 

we did focus a lot on the coalition—but also the joint piece. We sent our 

Airmen back into the US Army Sergeant Major Academy, the senior 

enlisted course for the Navy, working with the Navy and the Coast Guard. 

Then, we did some work to actually bring Marines for the first time into the 

Senior NCO Academy, and we sent our Airmen to their courses as well. 

That says an awful lot about our Airmen. I think it solidifies this whole idea 

of a strong Department of Defense, because it’s not about one service. 

It’s not about what individually you can bring. It’s about collectively as a 

group, what you bring to the fight. And what that team is able to produce 

with all of those assets.

Looking back on Operation Iraqi Freedom, Operation 

Enduring Freedom, and the roles that Airmen played 

in those operations, in those wars—

Yeah, these are nontraditional roles for Airmen; let’s look back 

at those. Let’s look back at the roles that our Airmen took on during Iraqi 

Freedom and Enduring Freedom. These are nontraditional Air Force 

roles and how did our Airmen produce? Tremendously.

On the ground, every time I would show up somewhere, I 

would have a sergeant major or a commander of some sort—typically a 

brigade commander—that would always stop me and say, “Chief, how do 

I get more of them? How do I get more Airmen like the Airmen I have 

here today?”

I remember we used to spend a lot of time going out to these PRTs 

[provincial reconstruction teams] outside the wire.3

 I always thought it 

was valuable, because quite frankly, number one, I needed to understand 

what it was our Airmen faced, what challenges they faced. If you’re going 

to provide the training for those Airmen to go into harm’s way—outside 

the wire every single day—you better understand it fully. If you don’t 

understand it fully, how can you advocate? How can you champion their 

training? You simply can’t. So, I always found it very valuable to go out 

and visit the far reaches of where we had Airmen. We may have had two or 

three Airmen on a base, on an installation that was primarily Soldiers or 

Marines, but it made a difference to those Airmen because they understood 

that somebody was interested.

I remember visiting Camp Leatherneck in Afghanistan, and we 

had just visited the hospital there—just tremendous work our medics 

were doing, just absolutely tremendous. The helicopter was there and 

I got ready to leave, and they came to me and said, “Chief, you need to 

hold off for a little bit. Sergeant major is on his way back from the front 

line and he wants to see you.” I was like, “Oh, okay. That’s great, I’ll 

hold off for him.” So, I held off. He was the sergeant major responsible 

for the entire combat operations in the south. When he came to me, he 

said, “Chief, listen, I want you to know, and I want you to relay to every 

Airman, how much harder my Marines will fight when they know they have 

the support of combat medics like we have here in Camp Leatherneck.” I 

thought, “Oh, my gosh.” I mean, I just got chills. I tried to share that with 

every combat medic I knew. And it’s not just the combat medics, it’s every 

single AFSC [Air Force specialty code], it’s every single Airman we had out 

in those locations.

By the way, that Marine was a gentleman by the name of Mike 

Barrett. You may know him as Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps Mike 

Barrett, who became the Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps while I was the 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. So, needless to say, we had a very 

strong team. It just tells the value that our joint commanders, joint leaders, 

sergeant majors, and master chief petty officers see in our Airmen. It goes 

to the heart of who we are. We are American first. We will do whatever 

America needs of its Department of Defense. Sure, we have Airmen skills, 

and those Airmen skills will be exposed, but our Airmen—starting with basic 

training, where the foundation starts—build Airmen skills that lead all the 

way through to when we’re actually in combat operations.

You mentioned going out and identifying challenges 

Airmen faced in these outer regions. What did you find 

to be the challenges Airmen faced out there, or even 

at home station, or in a typical deployed environment 

during Iraqi Freedom and Enduring Freedom?

Anytime you go speak with Airmen in these types of locations, 

there’s going to be some challenges. One of the things I realized when 

speaking with a lot of Airmen in those deployed locations was, number 

one, they missed their family. They were out there for what? To defend 

our nation—defend America’s interest. Whether it be an Airman out in 

the middle of Iraq or Afghanistan working in a PRT, a combat medic down 

range, or a civil engineer building a new taxiway or ramp, they do it because 

of the US interest, our national interest. And if you talked to them at any 

length, you realized it was really about their family. They saw that interest as 

being their family. That’s really what drove it home; they saw value in it.

Going back to when Ms. Paula and I first joined the Air Force, I told 

you we didn’t join the Air Force because we had a sense of patriotism. We 

just had to join the Air Force and serve, but it didn’t take us long to change 

our mind-set about why we serve—and that continues today. It’s a lifelong 

commitment; it’s a lifelong obligation. It’s about the national interest, and 

when you drill into that, it’s about the families.

Now sure, there were other things our Airmen were certainly 

concerned about. One of the areas I found they were always concerned 

about was the training and how they were equipped. These are typical things 

that we do, but we don’t often put a lot of thought to them sometimes. When 

they were able to take their experience back and interject it into the next 

Airmen deployment, it made a big difference.

251
252
253
Another thing about the equipment is that we would have 

deploying Airmen go to an Army location for the training, and the Army 

would issue them another two or three bags of equipment. They weren’t 

going back to their home duty station before they deployed; so, they were 

dragging whatever bags they took, two to three bags themselves, plus the 

two to three the Army issued them that they couldn’t give back. Then 

they’d get to Afghanistan and they’d be shoving these bags underneath 

their bunks. They said, “Chief, I never use this stuff? What do I do 

with this?”

Lt. Gen. [Loren M.] Reno [USAF] and I were able to team 

together and really define what it was our Airmen needed to take.4 We 

were able to find a way so they didn’t have to carry too much with them, 

because if you don’t hit the sweet spot, you just bog them down with a lot 

more equipment. They needed equipment for that particular location, but 

we didn’t want to bog the system down.

You mentioned the joint operations and the Total 

Force, the Air National Guard and Air Force Reserve 

have obviously played a large role, and have since 

9/11. Can you comment on the contribution they 

played throughout?

Yeah, it’s easy. The only way and reason we can say “mission 

accomplished” is because of our Total Force. That’s it, plain and simple.

I shared where I was exposed to our total force partners, but 

then again, here at Charleston AFB [South Carolina] was a completely 

different set of dynamics I had not been exposed to. I look back at those 

days now. We had the 315th Airlift Wing, I would say partners.5 When I 

flew with the crews, I didn’t know who was who. Quite honestly, it really 

didn’t matter. We had the iron on the ramp, we had the cargo to go down 

range. The crew that was available was the crew that took it. That same 

level of professionalism is throughout our Guard and Reserve. There is no 

way we could have possibly said “mission accomplished” in any of these 

operations if we didn’t have our Total Force partners. They are crucial.

The other dynamic that our Total Force partners bring is their 

other careers. They bring in another skill set that a lot of active duty 

Airmen don’t see. I think we’ve accomplished a lot with our Total Force 

partners. The idea that we send young enlisted Airmen today, right out 

of technical school, to a Reserve unit or a Guard unit to be trained by 

Guardsmen says an awful lot about where we came from. It wasn’t like that 

when I first joined in 1982.

I was just talking with an Airman the other day, and he was telling 

me, “Oh yeah, I’ve got an assignment. I am going to go to a Guard base, and 

I am going to do these things.” He was a maintainer, and he was so excited 

about that, and I said, “Why are you so excited about it?” He said, “Number 

one, it’s a brand new experience for me; so, obviously, that’s exciting.” 

Then I started asking him a few more questions. “Do you realize you’re 

going to be trained by some of the most skilled technicians in the Air Force? 

And you’re going to learn a lot more than just your primary AFSC. You’re 

going to learn an awful lot more about the Air Force and what else we do.” It 

was different when I first came in. You didn’t see the blending that we have 

today. It just wasn’t like that, and quite honestly, it was somewhat polarizing.

When I speak over here [Charleston] at the ALS [Airman 

Leadership School], I always ask them, “Okay, so who’s in the class?” They 

always tell me, “I have two Reservists in here. I have 20 active duty.” I always 

ask, “What about joint partners?” “Well, we don’t have any of those Chief; 

we’re working on that.” But you really can’t tell. You get up and you talk 

to the class, you take questions from the class, and you can’t tell. They’re 

such professionals, and they bring so much to the fight. I know our current 

leadership wouldn’t even think of going into combat without our Total 

Force partners.

I would also add, we often talk about Total Force being our active 

duty, Reserve, and Guard. It’s larger than that. What about our Department 

of Air Force civilians? Quite honestly, a lot of my training at the first duty 

station came from the civilian workforce. A gentleman by the name of Jack 

Hood taught me how to operate a TD25 dozer. I had no idea, but Jack knew 

the dozer. He taught me everything. He taught me how to respect the dozer. 

I will tell you, going and taking that experience that Jack taught me about 

operating a dozer led to me being a much more valuable member on a rapid 

runway repair [RRR] team, as we prepared and continued to stay ready in 

Korea. I can attribute that back to our civilian workforce. Early exposure 

led me to a deeper appreciation for my idea of Total Force, that being active 

duty, Guard, Reserve, and our Department of the Air Force civilians.

254
In 2009 you became the 16th Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force. For you it was a little different as you 

were a combatant command senior enlisted leader at 

the time. Can you describe the experience and why it 

was a bit different?

Yeah, the experience of being selected as Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force is one of both excitement and a bit of anxiety. What have 

I gotten myself into? Am I ready? Am I prepared for this? And also, I’m 

ready to get it started. I applaud Gen. Schwartz and how he went about 

this. Not because he selected me, but because he opened the slate up to 

our joint team, our Air Force senior enlisted leaders that were in those 

joint billets. To my knowledge, that hasn’t been done before. There were 

a couple of us from the joint community, and the Chief of Staff saw value 

in that and was able to bring that talent back to the Pentagon.

Then to be selected, coming from a joint position. In fact, I 

remember the day I was appointed. The outgoing commander, typically 

the MAJCOM [major command] commander, is there with the Chief of 

Staff, and the MAJCOM commander would take the old hat, and then the 

Chief of Staff would put on the jacket with the new stripes. It’s somewhat 

tradition. If you look at the pictures of the appointment of the 16th Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force, what you’ll see in that picture is a four 

star with whites on. It seems a little different because it’s never been 

done before. General Schwartz being a joint war fighter himself, coming 

out of US Transportation Command, certainly understood the value of 

jointness. The idea that Admiral Keating would be asked to be a part of the 

ceremony appointing the 16th Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, I 

think is outstanding.

Gen. Schwartz being the absolute professional he is, I remember 

him telling Admiral Keating, “No, you put that jacket on.” That to me says 

an awful lot about where we are as a joint force, that we can have a very 

senior Airman in our US Air Force working in a joint community, and 

bring them back to be the 16th Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. It 

says an awful lot about us as a profession.

From the time you became the Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force, you led us through the last stages of 

Operation Iraqi Freedom. In 2011 we pulled out of Iraq, 

what do you remember about the last stages of that 

war? Was that a difficult transition?

It was. It was very difficult. Just like any separation, leaving a mission 

— It was. It was very difficult. Just like any separation, leaving a mission, 

you ask yourself, “Did I do everything I could have done? Are the partners 

that we’re leaving there fully capable? Are they capable of defending 

themselves, defending their nation?” We obviously provided them the 

adequate equipment. We certainly provided them with the knowledge, the 

skill, the education, and the experience working side by side with US Air 

Force Airmen, but there is always this question of, “Okay, but ... did we do 

enough?” It’s always kind of a nagging thing because you could have always 

done a little more. But when we left, personally, I think we left a very capable 

force—educated, certainly equipped, and with adequate experience. 

What happened after that, it will always be a nagging thing to us, 

because we obviously know what happened. For US Airmen, it’s something 

that will always be in the back of our mind. The fact that the US Air Force, 

US Airmen had been at war since the first Gulf War, we never went home per 

se. The US Air Force, as an institution, never went back to garrison. We had 

always been at war; so, I think that was the other thing. There’s a little bit of, 

“Wow, okay, time to relax a little bit.”

There is also a little angst with that. Our deployment rate, as high 

as it was, and as rapid as our dwell rate was sometimes—we had Airmen 

deploying back to back. We had Airmen with extended deployments. We 

had them on year-long deployments. My fear was that we’d bring them back 

to garrison and, quite honestly, they were going to get a little disinterested 

in a mission sense. The mission wasn’t going to be challenging enough 

for them because of what they had seen. Now, granted, that was 2011. I 

look back at it now and there have been other things that have drawn our 

attention and kept us involved.

For us, as the United States, and US Airmen specifically, you can 

say you did your absolute best. There is no doubt that our Iraqi counterparts 

have the utmost respect for US Airmen. You did your absolute best, and 

that’s all we can ask of you.

255
You mentioned the constant deployments and the 

fact that we have been in that region for more 

than 25 years. One of the other consequences of 

that is just the resiliency of the force. You tackled 

a lot of that when you saw the introduction of 

Comprehensive Airman Fitness. Why was it so 

important to put a lot of effort toward that? 

Comprehensive Airman Fitness, we borrowed that. It was actually 

Comprehensive Soldier Fitness. We borrowed it from the U.S. Army. If 

you see something that works very well, why reinvent it? We’re a joint 

team; so, why not try to use and take what our joint partners are using? 

Although they had different pillars, the four pillars we placed were what 

our Airmen needed.

It goes a little bit further than just the Airmen. It was also the 

families. Because of the dwell rates the way they were, the length of 

deployments, the speed turning of deployments, and the different types 

of locations our Airmen were deploying to, I thought it was important—

as did Gen. Schwartz—that we help our Airmen through predeployment, 

deployment, and postdeployment. Everybody wanted to look at 

resiliency as a postdeployment thing; it was an action that happened after 

you were back.

For us, the A1 Gen. [Richard Y.] Newton, and then later Gen.

[Darrell D.] Jones, and the A4/7 Gen. Reno, we were able to put this 

together in a way that I think really helped our Airmen. Not just after 

deployment, but from predeployment and then throughout. That was the 

idea behind Comprehensive Airman Fitness. That was the idea behind 

resiliency. I think that team—the Air Staff team—our idea was what’s best 

for our Airmen? We need them. We have a need for their services, whether 

that be a year from now or on a constant churn. We have a need for their 

services. How best do we help them go through that situation? How best 

do we help their families work through those situations? I think we found 

something in the Comprehensive Airman Fitness.

The other part that was a little bit alarming—and we had to do a 

little bit of policing up with this—was the whole idea of well, you’re an 

Airman and you deployed, but certainly you didn’t see those things you’re 

telling me, because you’re an Airman and you were behind the wire. 

Well, that’s not true. If you look at our force that we had deployed, and 

continued to deploy, it’s not just those Airmen behind the wire; it’s the 

Airmen that go outside the wire every single day. It’s the truck driver on a 

convoy. It’s the PRT, it’s the combat medics, and it’s our EOD [explosive 

ordnance disposal] members. It’s our civil engineers that are out there in 

the middle of a bare base building something up. It’s our defenders that 

are out there on the perimeter beyond the wire of the installation.

We had a very difficult time helping others understand that for our 

Airmen, if they tell you they’ve seen something, they’ve seen it. They have 

seen the destruction of war. They have seen the difficulty of war. They have 

seen that, and it was a little bit challenging to get some to understand. If an 

Airman is telling you what they saw while they were deployed, they saw it. 

They saw the death and destruction, and if they tell you they need help, they 

need help. So for us, providing them that sense of resiliency before they 

deployed, and certainly on that other end postdeployment, we saw much 

better-equipped Airmen—and for that matter, their families.

One of the areas that Ms. Paula was able to champion was this idea 

of key spouses. Why do we have key spouses? The idea behind key spouses 

was so our families, when deployment hits or TDY hits, or maybe they just 

need somebody to talk to, there is somebody in that organization they can 

talk to or at least go to for assistance. I have to applaud Ms. Paula for, in my 

opinion, institutionalizing the whole idea of key spouses.

Where do we get that from? Well, there’s this thing called the 

ombudsman program in the Navy. Why reinvent the wheel? Something that’s 

worked throughout history, why reinvent it? Obviously, it looks different. 

It operates a little bit differently; it operates as Airmen and their families 

need it. The key spouse program, to me, is so critical to the success of our 

mission, the success of our Airmen. I just can’t see us doing this without 

our key spouses. Whether that’s a young technical sergeant spouse that has 

a lot of energy and wants to do this, or the commander’s spouse, the chief’s 

spouse, the first sergeant’s spouse, it really doesn’t matter—somebody that 

can help our families deal with those situations as they come along and help 

them feel a part of the team.

Ms. Paula always talks about how it wasn’t until certain points in 

our career where she really felt she was attached to the mission. We have 

been in some units where you didn’t always feel a part of that, at least the 

family didn’t. But we’ve been in others where we still stay in touch with the 

squadron commander because they made us feel a part of that team. To 

me that is, and I hate to use the word key, but that’s the key to success. So 

Comprehensive Airman Fitness, resiliency, key spouses, they all go hand 

in hand. That is something we absolutely needed to do, something we 

absolutely need to carry on.

256
When you think about these programs, they arguably 

shifted our focus to where it needed to be. When 

you look at Airmen now, after these programs have 

been in place for a few years, what do you see as the 

difference when it comes to resilience?

I look at Comprehensive Airman Fitness, key spouses, and 

resiliency—I look at it as a whole. It’s the idea that an Airman not just 

tolerates the situation but actually grows out of the situation. That’s 

something we always talk about as Airmen. Use your experience to help 

you grow and help other Airmen grow.

And I refuse to call it a program, because none of them are ever 

a program. It was really an institution; it was really an idea, a concept 

of being able to have Airmen, that when faced with adversity, can work 

through it, but just as important can grow through it and then teach others 

as well.

One of your other focus areas was deliberate 

development, and I know you touched on this a little 

bit; but, a big aspect of that was putting the right 

Airman in the right place at the right time. We heard 

that a lot, and enlisted development teams are a 

good example. Can you describe why that happened 

and why we needed that?

I think the reason we needed that focus at that particular time is 

because, if you look at the force today, we are continually going down 

in size. I always tell Airmen we are half the size we were when I first 

joined the Air Force, and it continues to go down. Our Airmen have to 

be knowledgeable. They have to have that education, experience, and 

exposure much broader than I had when I first came in the Air Force. So, 

for me, to focus on this whole idea of deliberate development, of making 

sure you have the right Airman at the right place at the right time, both for 

the institution and for their continued development, was so important.

This isn’t just a novel idea. It wasn’t something that was just my 

brain child. It was something our other formers [former CMSAFs] helped 

me with. They molded me with the understanding that we needed to get 

to this location. We always had a goal, but how do you get there? The 

concept of deliberate development was put into place well before my 

time as the 16th Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force, but I was able to 

carry it out.

I was able to publicize it in a way that we did and start the enlisted 

force development panels. We were able to institutionalize having an 

enlisted member in legislative affairs and in international affairs. Not just 

assigned there but to be an actual action officer, to go through the training, 

to go sit in one of the senators or congresswomen or congressmen’s office, 

be a valuable member to them, and then bring that back to this institution 

called the United States Air Force. That makes us better. That makes us 

better every single day.

As we continue to bring the force down, the idea of being 

multitasked, multiskilled, for me at least—and I think most agree with this—

it lends itself to be much more professional, much more ready for whatever 

the combatant commander needs on the ground. So, it’s only going to 

make us better. It has made us better, and it will continue to make us better 

into the future. 

One of the phrases that we all heard when you were in 

the position was PME Next. When you were establishing 

that, moving us in that direction, what did you see as 

the vision of PME in the future?

PME Next, let’s put it in context. Myself coming up with an idea 

just didn’t happen. These things had to be modeled, had to be tried. At that 

particular time, I had this gentleman at AETC [Air Education and Training 

Command] by the name of Jim Cody who was helping me model this idea 

of PME Next. The whole idea was that we need to make sure Airmen are 

getting the right PME at the right time.

I can tell you story after story of Airmen, I say Airmen in general 

terms, but say a master sergeant that goes to the Senior NCO Academy and 

retires in a year or retires in six months. What value does that have to the 

organization? PME Next, the idea was to provide the right training at the 

right time for the right person. That was the genesis of this.

And let’s put it in context. We had this little thing called sequestration 

that was starting, and it was budget cuts. We had this model on the shelf. 

Chief Cody and his team, along with us, had this on the shelf. We needed a 

nudge to get us there. For me, maybe a little nudge like, “Hey, I need some 

money from you.” You’re not going to have the exact money pool you had 

for PME, regardless of what it is.

It’s a concept I believe in. It’s a concept we had developed, and we 

needed a means to help us get it launched. Unfortunately, when you look at 

these kind of things, all too often people think, “Well I need some type of 

positive push in order to get this thing launched.” And for us, some would 

say we just did it because of the budget cuts. Well, we had it; we just needed 

something to get it launched. It just happened to come at the same time we 

were going through a budget situation, and we were going to have to cut 

some of the PME. It gave us that way ahead to provide the all-important 

enlisted PME to the right Airmen at the right time at the right place.

257
And the education is better.

Oh, absolutely. Again, PME Next, by doing that, we have increased 

the caliber of—certainly the caliber of Airmen—but we’ve increased the 

caliber of curriculum two- or threefold.

It’s much tougher now, they say. 

Well that’s good. It makes you better. It makes you a better 

Airman. I hear the same thing. PME Next is tough. A lot of people thought 

it was just going to be a throwaway course that you can just do online 

and be done with it. It is an online course, that was the idea behind it, 

but it’s pretty tough. It’s challenging and that’s what we want. We want 

challenging, because if we train and educate the way we fight, we’re going 

to be much better warriors, much better Airmen.

Absolutely. I have one final question for you Chief, 

one we’ve asked all the chiefs. When you look at the 

Airmen serving today in 2016, and you had to start 

a sentence with “I believe,” what would you say?

I believe we have the absolute best-trained, best-equipped, 

best-led, all-volunteer, professional, combat-hardened Airmen we have 

ever had.

I absolutely sleep safe and sound knowing that our Airmen are on 

sentry. If we look at the legacy of all those that have gone before us, we 

have built it up to the point where the next generation is going to be even 

better. Not that I made it better, but I will tell you the next generation is 

absolutely better. I couldn’t be prouder than I am of the Airmen who serve 

today and the Airmen who will serve in the future.

258
259
Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

James A. Cody

January 24, 2013 - February 17, 2017

James Cody was born on 19 

June 1965, and raised in Lakeville, 

Massachusetts. Like many who live along 

the northeastern coast, he developed a 

fondness for fishing and sailing. In high 

school he was an athlete, excelling in 

track and field, but his goal was always 

clear: he would follow in his father’s 

footsteps and join the Massachusetts 

State Police. He joined the Air Force as 

a stop gap, something he could do until 

he became old enough to apply for the 

police force. But once he joined, he fell 

in love—with a fellow Airman and the Air 

Force—and his goals changed.

Cody became an air traffic 

controller, and in technical training, he 

met his future wife and fellow Airman, 

Athena. They were both assigned 

to Ramstein Air Base, Germany and 

quickly became well known in the air 

traffic controller community. They were 

hard workers, and well-trained and 

professional Airmen. They excelled in 

each assignment, serving at Pease Air 

Force Base (AFB), New Hampshire; 

Vandenberg AFB, California; Osan Air 

Base, Korea; Incirlik Air Base, Turkey; 

Langley AFB, Virginia; and many other 

installations. In 2005, Chief Cody 

stepped away from air traffic control 

to become a command chief, serving 

thereafter at the expeditionary task force, 

wing, numbered air force and major 

command levels.

In January 2013, General 

Mark A. Welsh III made Cody the 17th 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force 

(CMSAF). Immediately upon assuming 

the position, Chief Cody committed to 

the continued evolution of the enlisted 

force. He identified various policies and 

processes, and with the support of the Air 

Force Chief of Staff and Enlisted Board 

of Directors (EBOD) moved each of 

them forward to ensure the enlisted force 

was prepared for future challenges.1 

Among the changes were a new enlisted 

evaluation system and weighted airman 

promotion system. He also evolved 

enlisted professional military education 

(EPME) and introduced Airmen’s 

Week at basic military training (BMT). 

He retired from the Air Force on 17 

February 2017 after more than 32 years 

of service.

260
In January 2017 as his tenure was coming to a close, Cody sat 

down for an interview to discuss his Air Force career and his time as the 

CMSAF. During the interview he talked about serving with Athena as a 

join-spouse couple, the challenges of evolving an enlisted evaluation 

system, and the reasons behind Airmen’s Week and changes to EPME. 

The following are edited experts from the conversation.

Alright Chief, well you joined the Air Force in 1984. As 

I understand, that was right out of high school. What 

pushed you to join the Air Force then?

I came in the Air Force to get out of the Air Force, to be honest 

with you. I was very much focused on becoming a state trooper in 

Massachusetts. That’s what my dad had done, and what I wanted to do. I 

was tapped and ready to go to college. I had applied and been accepted, 

but as I got closer to graduation, like a lot of young people, I decided 

I didn’t want to do that. I just wanted to go in the state police. Despite 

some objections from my parents, who were pushing me to go to college, 

I decided to join the Air Force. I figured I’d do this for four years. I would 

get on a state police list in that four years and then get out and go back 

home. That’s what pushed me to join. This was to do something, while I 

waited to do something else.

I guess the next question is what changed, because 

obviously that didn’t pan out. 

I think what changed is I came in the Air Force. I don’t come from a 

military background, nor did I have any family members who were serving 

in the military. My stepdad was in World War II, I had an uncle who was 

a pilot, but I just didn’t have that exposure. I came in the Air Force and 

was exposed to different people, the different aspects of life. We went to 

Germany. Athena and I got married. We had our son. Even then, I think 

for a fairly significant period of time we both planned on separating, and 

neither one of us had these great aspirations of making the Air Force 

a career.

It really changed when it was time to get out. We were at Pease 

Air Force Base in New Hampshire. This is 1988–1989 time frame. They 

did a base realignment and closure [BRAC], and were closing Pease. 

Athena and I were working in the tower and RAPCON [radar approach 

control system] there, as air traffic controllers. We were dual rated, and 

they came to several of us and offered us the opportunity to get out. At 

that time during BRAC, even if you had retainability, if you wanted to get 

out, you could get out.2

 They would rather not move you. The Air Force 

said we could get out, and the FAA [Federal Aviation Administration] said 

they would hire us the next day to stay right there. Just take the uniform 

off. Certainly, as you’d expect, we talked with our families about it. Our 

families didn’t have that strong military background; so, they were like, 

“Heck yeah. Get out.” We were only 21⁄2 hours away from where I grew up 

at that point. That’s when Athena and I talked and asked ourselves, “Okay, 

what are we going to do?”

Initially I would tell you we were leaning towards getting out and just 

working through the logistics of that. That’s when we started talking about 

all the things we loved about the Air Force. We liked our job. We liked air 

traffic control, but we loved being Airmen in the Air Force. We loved what it 

represented, how it made us feel, the people that we were doing it with. That 

started moving us in this direction, and we decided we we’re going to stay in 

and do this for a career.

You mentioned Athena. Obviously she has had a big 

influence in your career. I know you met her very early 

in your career, I believe at tech school [technical 

training school] is that right?

Yeah, we did. We met at tech school. Athena was about a month 

ahead of me coming in the service. I joined in November. She joined in 

October. We were both air traffic controllers. We met each other the very 

first night that I arrived at Keesler [AFB, Mississippi], for tech school. It was 

New Year’s Eve 1984 that I arrived there. I met her that evening. We just 

met. No real thing beyond that. She was ahead of me. Obviously, through 

school we got to know each other. As we were going through school we 

became really good friends. That friendship became a lot more, and we 

ended up both going to Germany. 

She was supposed to go to Keesler Tower. I was going to Tyndall 

[AFB, Florida], which was supposed to be my first assignment. They had a 

program back then where they were trying to get people into radar approach 

control facilities. They came to our class towards the end, and they asked 

if we wanted to go to a RAPCON. If you wanted to go overseas for three 

years for an extended long tour as a single person, you were guaranteed a 

RAPCON assignment. I jumped on that and said, “Yeah, I want to do that.” 

Then they ended up closing Keesler Tower because they were going to 

do some renovations on it. They went back to Athena and offered her an 

assignment to Germany. She had been an exchange student over there when 

she was in high school, so she decided to go. Here our paths are now both 

going to Germany. A little over a year later we were married.

How about that. I know she had a great career herself.

She had a phenomenal career. I wouldn’t be sitting her today if it 

weren’t for Athena. Athena is a retired chief, did a little over 26 years on 

active duty, all that but one year as an air traffic controller—one year as a 

group superintendent. A phenomenal career. If I were going to give anybody 

the majority of credit for any success I’ve had, it’s certainly going to be her.

261
What were some of the challenges you two faced as a 

join-spouse couple?3

I think in the beginning, a lot of it came down to the perceptions 

of others. You know, you’re an independent Airman. You come in the 

Air Force, put the uniform on, and you’re an Airman in your own right. 

Although, especially when you’re younger, people don’t think of you that 

way. Certainly, people who are probably old enough to be your parents 

are looking at you in a different way. What one does affects the view of 

the other. We were fortunate. We weren’t bad Airmen. We were good 

Airmen working hard; so, we had good reputations. There were always 

concerns. We couldn’t work together, couldn’t work in the same facility. 

People were always worried about stuff like that, especially when we were 

young. We, over time, gained a reputation that we were very professional. 

We never called each other by our first names. We always used either 

our operating initials or Airman so-and-so. We made a concerted 

effort to maintain a very professional relationship at work. Over time, it 

became less of a factor. Air traffic control is not that big of a community. 

Your reputations will always precede you. I think that worked to our 

advantage over time.

The challenge was assignments. I went on a remote assignment 

without her because a join-spouse assignment just wasn’t going to 

happen. We met back up in Turkey. Those things become a challenge, 

and certainly as we progressed in rank, it became even a greater challenge 

because there are less positions at the more senior enlisted ranks in air 

traffic control facilities. That really was the impetus behind me leaving 

air traffic control. It was either one of us get out of the military, or one 

of us leave air traffic control. I was an air traffic control functional at Air 

Combat Command. Athena was going to make chief. That was going to 

be challenging if she couldn’t get those positions she needed for her own 

development. I ended up getting on the command chief list and getting 

hired on that. We feel fortunate that, throughout our career, we could do 

it. It doesn’t mean there weren’t many separations. We had our remote 

assignments, deployments, and PCSs [permanent change of station] 

moves that didn’t align up exactly on time. In the long run, when you 

think about 26 years in uniform together, 31 years married together in 

the military, we’re pretty fortunate and blessed.

You two were both young Airmen when the Air Force 

went from the Airman Performance Report (APR) to 

the Enlisted Performance Report (EPR).4 What do 

you recall about the feelings of Airmen as we went 

through that transition?

That hit both Athena and I. We were brand new staff sergeants when 

that transition took place. Chief [James C.] Binnicker, our Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force at that time, made this transition. There was much 

of the same exact discussion that we had as we went through this recent 

change and evolution that we did over the last four years.5 What happened 

was they came up with a new form. It detailed things out differently, 

dramatically differently in the descriptions, to try to control inflation. 

I’ve talked with many of my predecessors on this subject. You 

know, we didn’t have any of the communication mediums we use today. 

We didn’t have social media. None of us had computers on our desks. We 

weren’t going to the Internet. If the information didn’t come down in some 

written format that you were reading or somebody briefed you, it was just 

the unknown.

The reality is they did discuss having some level of quotas, but 

they couldn’t agree on that at the time. When they rolled that out, they 

established expectations. Basically, the expectations were that only one 

person in any work center would get the highest rating: a five. They didn’t 

put any numbers or restrictions to it, they just wrote out this generalized 

statement of expectations. Right off the get go, people did try to comply 

with that. Senior leaders put out directives and expectations. It personally 

affected me and Athena. It had everything to do with timing. I certainly 

wasn’t a better Airman than Athena, but timing-wise during that transition, 

when we were getting our first EPRs, I was ahead with my training. I had 

already completed all my training; so, I got one of those fives, and because 

Athena was in training and not fully upgraded in the opposite facility, she 

got a four, because there was only going to be one five for staff sergeants. 

That was obviously a sting for her, a sting for us, but certainly personally and 

professionally for her because, again, I wasn’t a better Airman than her or a 

better supervisor. Quite the contrary.

That situation took place in all kinds of work centers. And because 

there was such an uproar and there wasn’t a strong commitment from the 

beginning that we would put any type of quotas on it, we almost immediately 

walked away from that in the first year. Six months to a year later, we went 

away from it and basically said there were no expectations, just follow the 

instruction. We immediately transitioned right back to where we were, 

and that is complete inflation. The vast majority of Airmen received the top 

rating. It didn’t have the value it intended to have on performance. Every 

former Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force will acknowledge that that was 

the case, and there were attempts to look at the system. There were attempts 

to see how we could rein it in. We certainly made tweaks on the form over 

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time and changed the wording, but nothing fundamentally changed with 

the construction of it. The system had been inflated for decades. The 

force had been frustrated with it, and it affected us personally as Airmen. 

It wasn’t about performance.

How much did that experience influence your 

approach to the changes over the last four years?

I think we learned lessons from those original discussions. I 

had a great opportunity before Chief Binnicker passed away to sit down 

with him on multiple occasions and talk about this. As the Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force that led us through the transition from APRs to 

EPRs, he gave me a lot of good counsel on how to go through this and how 

to not fall into the traps that they did.

First and foremost, he told me that if we don’t somehow put 

restrictions on it—if we don’t put a force distribution quota or some type of 

limit on how many people can be rated at the very top end as it would relate 

to their advancement abilities—then don’t change anything. He said we 

would just go through a lot of churn and it wouldn’t change anything. That 

was a guiding principle we had as we worked through this, once [Chief of 

Staff] Gen. [Mark A.] Welsh gave us the direction to go out and make sure 

performance counted. He gave it to me and the EBOD to work. Again, I 

had a lot of dialogue with several of the former Chief Master Sergeants of 

the Air Force on this, gaining their perspectives and understanding how 

they viewed it.

Ultimately, the team that was in the seat during my tenure came 

up with what we have now. I think we’ve hit it where it needs to be today, 

to be honest with you. The force was frustrated. The force was demanding 

a change. I’m not sure they were prepared for that change. It’s easy to cast 

the stone at what you’re doing. And there were countless challenges with 

the rollout of the new system. I think all the necessary elements were there 

in the previous system, in writing in the AFI [Air Force Instruction], but 

it just didn’t have the control measures to ensure it worked as planned the 

first time out. Human nature being what it is, people are going to gravitate 

towards inflation. It’s just what people do. It’s not because they’re 

bad people. It’s because the easiest thing to do is to say somebody’s 

doing good. The easiest thing to do is to let somebody else make the 

decision. The hard thing to do is to tell the Air Force who’s next from 

your perspective.

A major change like that requires strong leadership. 

I’m sure throughout your career, especially as a 

younger noncommissioned officer (NCO) you were in 

leadership positions as an air traffic controller. What 

did you learn from those experiences that influenced 

the way you led as a command chief, or as the CMSAF?

I tell this story a lot. It was a lesson I was fortunate to learn early 

in my career, by somebody that is just a dear friend, a brother, to me. He 

was my first trainer at Ramstein Air Base, then subsequently became one of 

my supervisors. Then he was my best man when Athena and I got married. 

That’s retired MSgt Dennis Larsen. I probably wouldn’t even be in the 

Air Force if he wasn’t sitting there giving me some direction as a very 

young Airman.

We went to Pease together. It was the first time I was a watch 

supervisor, which is a little different than frontline supervisor. It’s different 

than being a reporting official for somebody and providing feedback and 

setting expectations. This is about how you run a crew. You have a crew of 

air traffic controllers. You’re on the top line. You assign positions, make 

sure things are going right—that type of thing. Back then I didn’t have 

the awareness of how the whole process works, which I would gain years 

later. They would put the most junior people on the top line, and the more 

senior people would be in the coordinator positions, working the positions 

and training people because they had greater experience. They would put 

inexperienced people on the top line to gain that experience.

What I learned early on is, one, I thought I was the best air traffic 

controller out there, like a lot of our young Airmen do. You can be pretty 

hung up on yourself when you’re younger sometimes. Maybe not everybody, 

but I self-admit that I certainly felt that way about myself. I knew how to 

do things. I had learned the books; I understood the things that I thought 

were right, and that’s how I did things. And if you didn’t do it that way, you 

were wrong. I didn’t have the maturity or the temperament, I guess, and 

the confidence to be honest with you, in myself that it could be done any 

other way. If people weren’t doing things the way I thought they needed 

to be done, I’d be quick to tell them to do it the way I wanted them to do 

it. It didn’t necessarily mean the way they were doing it was wrong, but in 

my mind, it was. As I was trying to get some experience, and the team was 

helping me get experience as a supervisor, I was acting like that.

One night after a swing shift, which means we got off at 11 o’clock 

at night, we were in the parking lot and my buddy Dennis, DL, called out to 

me. He was a tech sergeant, and I was a staff sergeant. He said, “Hey, CY. I 

need to talk to you.” I was like, “Yeah, what’s up?” I was thinking this was 

a normal, friendly conversation. He said, “You better just knock it off, or 

they’re gonna kill you.” I was totally oblivious, which probably makes this 

even sadder. I was oblivious to what he was talking about. He basically goes 

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on to tell me, chapter and verse, how I was just being a tyrant. I was not 

giving anybody any breathing room. I was all over everybody’s back, and 

they were tired of it. He said if I didn’t stop it, and if I didn’t start letting 

them do their job and just take care of the stuff I needed to take care of on 

the top line, then they were going to beat me. They might have back then. 

They could have got to that point of frustration where they might have 

taken me in the back there and given me a beat down just because they 

were fed up with me. I say that in jest of course.

I fought him on it, as you can imagine, as a young person. I gave 

him every excuse and told him how the things I was doing were right. I was 

proud of myself. At least I thought I was. I thought I was doing it right. 

I fought back on him, and I was frustrated. One, because I was getting 

negative feedback that I didn’t want or think I deserved, and two, I was 

getting it from my friend. It wasn’t that it was a tech sergeant giving me 

feedback, it was somebody I cared about and I thought cared about me. Of 

course, he did. That’s why he was giving it, but I didn’t see it that way at 

the time.

I had about a 30-minute ride home. After the adrenaline from that 

interaction settled down—and I can remember this day like it was yesterday, 

and I always have—I started to reflect on what just happened. After I got 

through my own denial phase by myself and I started to decompress a 

little bit and calm down, I started to think about what he was saying. The 

moment that solidified in me that I needed to listen to what he was saying 

and not what I was feeling about it, was the fact that I had another swing 

shift the next day. As I was thinking about this, I thought to myself, “Okay, 

so I’m pissed at my buddy Dennis, and I’m pissed that I got this feedback, 

but now I have to somehow muster up and go back into that RAPCON and 

take the top line with 15 people, and now I know what they think of me.” 

I thought they were thinking one thing about me, then I understood they 

thought something dramatically different. That was hard.

What I learned from that is, this just isn’t about you. This whole 

idea of supervising people, being in leadership roles, it isn’t about you. 

It’s about making sure the people you have the privilege of leading can be 

successful. Your role is to give them the tools they need to do the job that 

they’re being asked to do. In turn, that’s where your success will fold out, 

is in their success. I share that as a lesson I’ve constantly tried to remind 

myself. I can honestly say that even though I learned that lesson, and I 

was fortunate to learn it very early in my career, I didn’t always heed that 

advice. I’m still a human being. I’m still an emotional being like anybody 

else, but at some given point, I always reflected on that experience.

That’s just one. I could give you countless different leadership examples 

that I’ve learned, good and bad, from people. That was the foundational 

lesson for me—a basic principle of what is important when it comes to 

leadership, and a little bit of self-reflection early on.

A few years later you were stationed at Incirlik Air 

Base in Turkey. I believe that was in the mid-90s. It was 

after Desert Storm and Desert Shield, but there was 

obviously a lot going on in Turkey. Operation Provide 

Comfort6 operated out of there, and of course it then 

transitioned to Operation Northern Watch.7 What do 

you remember about the sentiment and feeling of 

Airmen at that time?

Where we were, I don’t know that we thought about war in the way 

we think about it post 9/11. It was a post–Desert Storm/Desert Shield 

environment. It wasn’t completely uncontested, but there wasn’t nearly the 

level of combat engagement that we had post 9/11. We were over there 

in Turkey, and we had combat missions going up every day, unless Turkey 

decided we couldn’t fly that day so they could do some of their own stuff. 

I think the sentiment was things had changed dramatically from the Cold 

War, but what did that mean? I don’t know that we fully appreciated it.

We weren’t growing as an Air Force then. We were still probably getting 

smaller and smaller. I know we were, because when I was in Korea, just prior 

to Turkey, we did some major drawdowns. We were still doing operations 

over there, and we had a sense that we were transitioning to a constant 

presence in that region—like what happened after the Korean War. The 

region was going to be another footprint that we had. We were going to be 

in this region, and it was going to be normal day-to-day business. There will 

be some missions, but mostly we would get back into an organize, train, and 

equip mode.

We did have a lot of things going on. At this stage of the game, I was 

a technical sergeant—a watch supervisor getting into the training aspect of 

what we were doing as air traffic controllers. 

Things were changing. There were deployments. There were a lot 

of missions going on in Turkey, but we still had this idea that we were going 

to be normalizing a bit.

How did that change after 9/11?

I think everything changed after 9/11. We go into stop loss.8 

What are we going to do? What is our response going to be? What does 

this mean to the country? How are we going to respond? Is it going to be 

an initial one-time big response and then this is over? To a degree, I think 

based on history that’s how the force would have fought it. We would have 

thought, “Okay, we’re going to find out who this enemy is. We’re going 

to thwart this enemy, and then we’ll get back to where we are today in the 

region.” The reality was that this was a much more complex enemy than we 

thought, and a much more dynamic environment to fight in. We had to step 

back and realize what we were good at, what we were capable of, and where 

[we] lacked as an Air Force. Certainly, my predecessors would have a better 

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vantage point of everything that was going on in the Air Force to ensure 

we were prepared and ready to respond. This goes back to [CMSAF #13 

Jim] Finch’s, [CMSAF #14 Gerald] Murray’s, and [CMSAF #15 Rod] 

McKinley’s timelines.

When I think about that, we weren’t an expeditionary force to the 

degree that we needed to be an expeditionary force. We didn’t have all the 

skill sets refined the way we needed them to be refined. I think our special 

operators were the most prepared, but even they weren’t fully prepared 

for what our nation was asking them to do. The dramatic evolution of all of 

that has been remarkable. It’s hard to characterize it fully. I would say the 

force was somewhat in shock. We had to ask ourselves, what does it mean 

to be an Airman? Things just dramatically started to evolve and it took our 

focus in a different direction.

Let’s fast forward a little bit. You later became 

a command chief and then served as the 18th Air 

Force command chief. You were there in 2010 when 

the earthquake hit Haiti.9

 Many Airmen from 18th Air 

Force and Air Mobility Command responded through 

Operation Unified Response, and I know you went down 

there as well.10

Yep, we went down there.

Can you talk a little bit about that experience and 

what those Airmen showed you at that time?

This was unique for us in a way and a little unique for me because 

of where I started out as a command chief. I started out at the 15th 

Expeditionary Mobility Task Force [EMTF]. There were two EMTFs, 

the 15th was on the West Coast, and the 21st was on the East Coast. 

They used to be numbered air forces, the 15th Air Force and 21st Air 

Force, but the Air Force is constantly evolving and changing and they 

were turned into expeditionary mobility task forces that had contingency 

response wings that fell underneath them, which then had contingency 

response groups. The groups had air mobility squadrons in the Pacific and 

European theaters that fell underneath them. The contingency response 

wings and contingency response groups were set up to respond with 

quick reaction forces from a mobility standpoint. We could go in there, 

open the base, and start running mobility operations. I saw that when I 

was in the EMTF.

The response to the earthquake in Haiti was a different thing 

because it wasn’t on American soil. We were going into another country. 

There were many different countries coming in at the same time—all there 

to aid the nation of Haiti. It was much different than responding to a 

natural disaster in your own country. What I saw was that team of Airmen 

displaying a tremendous set of skills. We got into Haiti immediately. We 

brought in our mobility assets. We got the airfield open. We secured the 

airfield. We started working the logistics with all the nongovernmental 

organizations that were trying to get into the country to bring aid and 

support. We coordinated that with a very small team of Airmen on the 

ground. The Army came in also, and many other folks came in after that. 

But we gained access and control very quickly to that airfield. Opening that 

airfield was the beginning of bringing hope back to that country that was just 

devastated, just devastated.

The 12th Air Force command chief at the time, Layton Clark, and I 

went down there just before the Super Bowl that year and spent time with our 

Airmen. You can’t even describe the destruction. The ability of our team to 

get in there and take the lead from a global standpoint was pretty impressive. 

We brought hope and light. I’ll tell you a story about how impressive our 

Airmen are.

You can imagine that things were getting desperate there. The 

people knew there was food and water on the airfield. It was a logistical 

challenge to distribute the food and water in a safe and effective manner. It 

took a little bit of time to stand things up. [Maj Gen Darryl Burke], who is 

the AFDW [Air Force District of Washington] commander was down there 

as part of the joint task force at the time.

We wanted to help them out, but we were working with a sovereign 

country and they needed to have a lot of say in how that took place. Every 

day the situation intensified more and more, especially as the people saw 

the supplies on the airfield that we had not distributed to the different areas. 

There were a few altercations, and there were some peacekeepers there. 

Our role was not to engage with any of the Haitian people in any combative 

way, but there were certainly some citizens there that acted aggressively out 

of frustration.

We had two young Airmen defenders, two stripers that were 

guarding one of the gates. As you can imagine, the access to the airfield was 

open prior to our arrival; so, trying to secure the airfield in this situation 

was challenging. The gates were very flimsy. It was difficult to close things 

off. And these two Airmen started to get rushed. Basically, the crowd said, 

“We’re coming on.” We had two defenders with a Humvee guarding the 

gate. They were carrying loaded weapons, but they were not cleared to 

engage and fire back. These two young defenders had the presence of mind 

to not escalate but deescalate the situation. They thought quickly enough, 

and moved quickly enough, to close the gates just enough so they could 

block the way. One of them closed the gates and the other got in the Humvee 

and drove it and secured the gate with the Humvee as the blockade behind 

the gate, which stopped the people from coming on. Really, if they had come 

through that gate, they would have gotten onto the airfield, and we would 

have had to let them take everything.

That’s the kind of Airmen we have. They’re just innovative and have 

the presence of mind to act appropriately in those situations, and they are 

trained for that. That’s what we could do as part of 18th Air Force. That 

ability to bring in that life-sustaining supplies was amazing.

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A couple years later you were the command chief at 

Air Education and Training Command (AETC), which 

was around the time when the Department of Defense 

repealed Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.11 I wanted to ask you 

about that transition and the sentiment of Airmen 

at that time.

Sometimes it’s much ado about nothing. You can appreciate that. 

I say that with a great sense of respect for the way we went through it and 

the challenges some people felt might exist versus what did exist. For 

years prior to the repeal, there was a large contingent of folks that didn’t 

like that we had a rule like that. The idea that you would tell somebody 

“don’t tell us something” smacks in the face of what we believe. I think we 

worked through it in a very methodical way. We educated the force to be 

respectful of the implications of a decision like that, when you have a policy 

such as we had. If you didn’t have that policy, it’s a different discussion. 

Society was evolving, along with perceptions and feelings on this. I think 

what we underestimated as an Air Force, which worked to our advantage 

to a degree, was that most of the force was younger. This was a nonissue 

for them. It was probably a greater concern for those that had been in the 

service longer.

There is also the religious aspect of this, people have strong 

beliefs. We tried to step through all of that as the Department of Defense 

in a very respectful manner. The fact is people have strong convictions 

one way or the other, and it can be challenging. I think as an institution, as 

the Department of Defense, we took the right approach and continued to 

move forward to where we sit today. 

Here’s the bottom line. If you can serve and you can do the mission 

that the military needs you to do, then you should have the opportunity to 

serve. Like I said, I think we learned some things along the way. I think 

there was greater concern than necessary in some areas. The day changed, 

and things changed—and it was great for those Airmen because they no 

longer had to live a separate life to serve their country. It was right to give 

them that ability to freely and openly be who they are. I think that’s right 

for everybody, and I think the force is good with that, just as society is.

The repeal of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell seemed to lead to 

a greater focus on diversity and inclusion, and as 

you mentioned the Department of Defense continues 

to grow on that. Why do you think that’s such a 

significant focus?

I think a lot of people are uncomfortable talking about diversity. For 

all the obvious reasons—it can be emotional. It can be hard sometimes to say 

the right thing and have people not take it the wrong way. That’s why people 

get scared talking about it.

If you look at the aggregated definition of diversity, it doesn’t just 

talk about gender, race, or religion. It talks about everything. It talks about 

socioeconomic background, education, and more. It’s a plethora of things 

that would fall under the broad definition of diversity. The challenge is most 

people are more narrowly focused when they think about diversity. They 

think about gender. They think about race. They may think about religion. 

They may think about heterosexual or homosexual. They tend to categorize 

people a bit more specifically than when you talk about education and when 

you talk about socioeconomic background.

It comes down to the acknowledgement that there is phenomenal 

strength in diversity, meaning the varied perspectives that everybody 

would bring to the table. The broadest of definitions of that is important. 

It’s proven time and time again to be a huge strength to any organization, 

beyond just the United States Air Force and the Department of Defense. If 

you consider the most diverse organizations, you can see a level of capacity 

and capability that exceeds those that are not diverse. If everybody is 

thinking the same, then everybody is kumbaya-ing to the same answer, and 

that may be the absolute wrong answer. When you bring in these diverse 

groups of people with different backgrounds, different upbringings, and 

different perspectives and realize that we need to reflect society, you start to 

appreciate that.

I do think we still must acknowledge that while we can all—from an 

enlightened perspective—appreciate that broad definition of diversity, that 

is not how we are measured every day. We are measured in a different way. 

That is, if the pictures on the wall don’t look like the force that is out there 

in the field, then we’re not diverse—even though we might be by that broad 

definition. We could be very diverse. We could have 15 people that look 

identical to me, and we could be very diverse. The only thing that wouldn’t 

be diverse is the fact that we look like each other. The problem is you will 

probably not be measured by that in most circumstances. If there is not a 

diverse picture of women, African-Americans, Hispanics—everything that 

makes up the strength of our Air Force—and if you can’t see yourself as a 

young Airman, then it doesn’t feel like an organization that is inclusive and 

is leveraging the diversity and strength that we bring.

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I believe we are consistently and continually making strides in that 

direction, but by no means are we there. We have work to do. Secretary 

[of Defense Deborah Lee] James has pushed this forward. Gen.Welsh did 

the same. Gen. [David L.] Goldfein has, and their predecessors for sure. 

It’s incremental advancement in this area, but the idea that we’re there? 

We’re not there. A tremendous amount of strength rests there; that’s an 

absolute. There’s just no question about it.

You were selected as the 17th Chief Master Sergeant 

of the Air Force in November 2012 and began 

the position in January 2013. Two months later, 

sequestration went into effect.12 What was the 

sentiment in the Pentagon at that time, and probably 

more importantly, what was the feeling among 

the force?

I think, for the most part, the initial feeling for the force was 

anxiety, but nothing else because, to be honest with you, for most Airmen 

on a day-to-day basis not much changed. In 2014, a lot changed. We 

became smaller. We started to feel the overall impact of the budget cuts.

I think in the Pentagon it created a sense of urgency. You know, 

“Holy smokes, what does this mean, not just to today but to the future?” 

The Secretary of Defense, with the Chairman and the other Joint Chiefs 

were thinking, “Okay, what are we going to do here?” We were a busy, 

busy military, and the demand signal from combatant commanders wasn’t 

decreasing. We were still heavily engaged globally and that was not 

slowing down. How are we going to do all that with the type of budget 

we’re talking about? It created a sense of stress, anxiety, and disbelief.

Initially there was a lot of disbelief. I can tell you, when I first 

came into the job and was making my first office calls with our elected 

officials and those on the staff, the sentiment was clear: “We will not go 

into sequestration. It’s not going to happen.” I can’t tell you how many 

people told me that. “It’s not going to happen. It’s not going to happen.” 

Then bam, it happened. It caught us all off guard.

It certainly needs to be repealed. It certainly continues to have 

a big impact on our Air Force, although getting the two-year bipartisan 

budget agreements gives us a little bit of stability, but it by no means is 

the way to run an organization like this. We must be able to plan through 

a fiscal year defense plan. We must have 20- and 30-year visions and plan 

how our Air Force is going to look into the future. Without some type of 

budget certainty, it makes it very challenging.

Despite those challenges, you still moved the enlisted 

force forward in many different areas. We talked 

about the changes to the EPRs. You also significantly 

changed the Weighted Airman Promotion System 

(WAPS). When did you know that was also going to be 

something you took on?

The reality is the conversation took place long before I came into 

the position. It’s taken place with all my predecessors. Chief [CMSAF #16 

Jim] Roy really did want to get after this. He did, but given his time and 

tenure when Gen. Welsh became the Chief of Staff, he deliberately talked 

with Gen.Welsh and said, “It needs to be somebody that can take this on 

and try to get us all the way through this.” They made the conscious decision 

that it would be the 17th Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force that took 

this on because they only had a little over six months together.

It was one of the first things that Gen. Welsh and I talked about. 

He said, “Performance has got to count, and we’ve got to get the evaluation 

system and the promotion system moving in the right direction.” I had that 

initial conversation with him, and his intent was that this challenge should 

be given to the senior enlisted leadership of the Air Force, not just advising 

but completely taking it on and owning it. We took it on from the beginning, 

and then as we got into the implementation, the policy, and the logistics 

part of it we brought back in the A1 community, and they helped us work 

through that.13

I think Airmen were surprised initially. They had been saying we 

needed to change it for years. The typical response had been, “We’ve got 

a good system. Just do it right.” I’ve said that many times, and I believed it. 

It was a good system if you did it right. The problem is we weren’t doing it 

right. We had to acknowledge that we were never going to do it right. I think 

we put people back on their heels a little bit, especially those Airmen that 

came at us hard and said we needed to fix it. When we said, “Yeah, you’re 

right, and we’re going to change it,” they were like, “Okay, what do I do 

with that?”

It took some time for us to do it right. I think there was a little bit 

of euphoria at first. Then they wanted details. Then there was disbelief. 

Then there was skepticism. Then there were the armchair quarterbacks 

poking holes in it. We went through all that, and there will always be a small 

part of that. By and large, we took on some big things and made some big 

changes. Certainly, things could have been done differently along the way. I 

don’t know that there’s anything anybody did that couldn’t have been done 

somewhat differently. I don’t know which ones you’d pick and what effect 

they would have, but you could certainly have dialogue about them.

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I am very confident we are where we need to be and have hit 

the mark on what Gen. Welsh asked us to do. I do think we are serving 

the force better. I do think there’s some legitimacy behind it, and we’re 

gaining confidence with it daily. I think it’s at a place now where, if we’re 

smart, and if we continue to keep our finger on it and evolve it over time, 

we won’t find ourselves in the same situation.

I talked often with the former Chief Master Sergeants of the Air 

Force, and I value their perspectives and insight on this more than most. I 

asked all of them, “Why did you leave it for us? This is not a new problem.” 

To be honest with you, they all wanted to get after it. To a one, they would 

have liked to have gotten after it. They recognized the challenges with it. 

They tried to, but from a timing standpoint with all the other things that 

were going on in the Air Force, it just didn’t seem like the right time. I 

think we were at the point where there was never going to be a good time. 

This is just what it is. You’re either going to get after these things and fix 

them or you’re never going to fix them. At some given point, you have 

come to the realization that it’s time.

We took this on as an Air Force. I just happened to be the Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force when we did it. It was the entire force 

that worked through this and will continue to work through this.

You also introduced developmental special duties.14 

We’ve been into that for a while now. Why did you feel 

that was important?

Developmental special duties was something I had been working 

on the entire time I was at Air Education and Training Command. 

We initially looked at this for the technical training instructors, who 

I had responsibility and oversight for, from a broad perspective, as the 

command chief for Air Education and Training Command. When I got to 

the command, one of the very first things the chiefs brought to me was that 

we weren’t getting the instructors we needed for the pipeline [initial skills 

training] courses. In some career fields, we were getting the most eligible 

nonvolunteers. It was creating a great challenge for them to produce 

because they couldn’t put some of their Airmen on the podium to teach. 

They didn’t meet some of the requirements to be on the podium.

You can obviously see how that’s a real disconnect. We worked 

for two years with Chief Roy, the EBOD, and the Air Staff to implement a 

version of this, a nomination process for a developmental special duty with 

some deliberate action to select folks. I don’t want to say it languished 

because I worked on it the entire time I was there, but I was just not able 

to get it over the finish line. I brought that with me into the Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force position and said, “Hey, we still need to look 

at this.” 

At the same time, we had the terrible, horrific situation that came 

to light at basic military training, with a very small percentage of our 

MTIs [military training instructors].15 It was certainly not a reflection or 

representation of our MTIs in any way, shape, or form. There was a very, 

very, very small contingent of folks that were doing some pretty terrible 

things. Unfortunately, that community in our Air Force, by the behaviors of 

a very small contingent of people, tarnished our reputation.

When we did the forensics on that, and when we looked at all the 

investigations that were done as result, we realized we didn’t have a process 

in place to ensure we had our top Airmen in those positions. We had a very 

high level of confidence that we had great NCOs down there, and they were 

performing exceptionally well—but we knew we could do better. 

I think that was the tipping point. I was then able to work with the 

EBOD and look at these developmental special duties. We looked at all 

special duties, but decided which ones would require a nominative process. 

We worked with the Air Staff to come up with a better process that included 

direct involvement by commanders, and we raised the criteria. We worked 

with the functional communities to make sure we had the right Airmen at the 

right time in their careers serving in these developmental positions.

I think our confidence level has risen dramatically. I certainly 

know we’re manning those positions at the highest levels we’ve ever done 

historically. While we haven’t completely eliminated poor behavior by 

everybody, the numbers are very, very, very small. They’re not in the same 

areas we had concerns with previously.

You were also the Chief Master Sergeant of the Air 

Force that introduced the term “blended learning” 

into an Airman’s lexicon.

Yeah, blended learning. That could be debated, whether it was 

blended learning or not. Depends on who you’re talking to.

What was the value of going to a blended learning 

model, where now Airmen have two different portions 

of PME: the distance-learning portion followed by an 

in-residence leadership experience?

It was something we had been working on prior to my tenure as the 

Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force. It’s the continued evolution of how 

we deliver education. We had been working on this model for quite some 

time. As the command chief for AETC, I had presented the blended learning 

model. Chief Roy was very focused on that. The senior enlisted leaders that 

made up the EBOD at the time, of which I was one, were all very engaged in 

this. Over the last few years, we moved all the way through this. It was always 

going to be a long transition that came in phases.

270
Essentially, as we continued to look at the professionalization 

of the force, the development of the force, it was clear our behaviors and 

actions were not necessarily aligned. We would tell people they had to 

do a distance-learning course, only to later send them to an in-residence 

course that taught the same material. That’s not valuing and respecting 

people’s time, for one thing. Everybody doesn’t want to do that.

The blended learning model allowed us to deliver foundational 

knowledge that every Airman could receive based on their year group, just 

continuing education. It wasn’t tethered to an Airman’s actual grade but 

how long have they had been in the service. If you’ve been in the service 

this long, this is what you should know about our Air Force. This is going 

to help you at your current rank or help you advance to the next rank. 

Then later, Airmen would be in a window for in-residence 

education. When we sent Airmen to school, we were not going to reteach 

them anything. Everybody that came in would have that same level of 

foundational knowledge, and we would provide a leadership experience 

that isn’t instructor-centric. It’s not an instructor standing at a podium 

reading to you. It’s an Airman coming in with everybody else that has the 

same level of knowledge. Now an instructor is facilitating an experience 

that brings them all to a higher level of understanding and education. We 

could deliver it to more people in a very consistent manner across the 

force. 

That was the essence of the blended learning model and why 

we made that decision. I think you could debate with some whether 

they would consider it blended or not. It’s a two-part process. We will 

give you the foundational information in distance learning. We will 

say you have met the requirements to continue to advance once you’ve 

done your distance learning, but there’s a 100-percent commitment to 

provide a 100-percent opportunity for people to attend the in-residence 

experience. That doesn’t mean everybody will. Nobody will ever go to 

every level of PME, just because of circumstances. It’s no different than 

under the previous system. The opportunity is still there.

It’s a model that you can find in every other major university. 

You go to any college, even as a full-time in-resident student, and you 

are going to take some distance learning. You’re going to do it. They all 

have that kind of course curriculum. Air University, which the Senior 

NCO Academy and all our NCO Academies align under, is an accredited 

university. We should be delivering education in a manner consistent 

with the evolution of education.

This was an approach to not lessen the bar but to raise the bar for 

everybody. That’s what I think we did. We are delivering more education 

to more people now than we have ever done historically. We are no longer 

being disingenuous about it. We are clearly stating to people when and 

what they must do. If they don’t, they can’t keep moving forward. We should 

be clear-text with people. If you don’t do this, you can’t go beyond this point. 

Make the choice. I think that’s fair. I think in any professional organization 

that environment exists.

Professionalism was also a big focus throughout 

your tenure with Gen. Welsh. The Air Force refreshed 

the Little Blue Book, now titled America’s Air Force: 

A Profession of Arms. Perhaps more significantly you 

introduced Airmen’s Week at basic training. Can you 

explain what Airmen’s Week is and how that 

came about?

I’ll start with the former first, the Little Blue Book. To be honest 

with you, Chief [Lee E. Jr.] Hoover is the guy that penned this for us. 

He took all the information we wanted and brought it together. We were 

getting questioned because of some of the things I talked about earlier, with 

the military training instructors and some other situations in the Air Force 

and across the Department of Defense that highlighted inappropriate or 

unethical behaviors. While we certainly would stand in front of anybody and 

talk about the professionalism of Airmen and show how we are a professional 

force, there were certainly a lot of indicators out there that could challenge 

that position and were challenging that position. We had to look at ourselves 

internally and say, “Okay, really where are we at with this?” Saying it doesn’t 

make it so. Saying you’re not doesn’t mean you’re not either, but you’ve got 

to be able to quantify this somehow.

If you were to look in what used to be our PDG, our professional 

development guide, which is now the Airman’s Handbook, it used to say 

you become a professional when you cross into blue. That’s when we would 

quantify this transformation. You are a part of the profession of arms. The 

interesting part was we didn’t have a definition of the profession of arms. 

We utilize that term broadly and loosely: “You are part of the profession of 

arms.” But what does that mean? That’s when we looked at the Little Blue 

Book with our core values and said, “It’s probably time that evolved.”

The original Little Blue Book came out during Chief [CMSAF #12 

Eric] Benken’s tenure, after some things took place where it called into 

question our professionalism yet again. Our core values have a history, but 

that’s when they came out in the Little Blue Book. This current evolution 

of the book was our opportunity to say, “It’s not just about the three core 

values. It is about being part of the profession of arms.” We wanted to fully 

articulate what it means to take the oath and commit to service in the Air 

Force. The book needed to be something that people can read and say, 

“This is what I’m part of in the profession of arms. This is what bonds us 

together.” That’s what we did.

271
Now to the Airmen’s Week part of this. Under Chief Roy’s time 

as the 16th Chief Master Sergeant of the Air Force we reviewed BMT, 

like we do every three years. When we did the review, we realized that 

basic military training was seven-and-a-half weeks of training that we were 

delivering in eight-and-a-half weeks. That’s why you get people saying it’s 

hurry up and wait and all this other stuff. When we looked at this, and 

again, we were fiscally constrained at the time, we said we can do basic 

training in seven-and-a-half weeks and not take anything out. We were 

still going to get the same Airmen.

The one thing that became a part of that discussion, which was 

valid, was the thought that there’s value to all the marching around 

Lackland [AFB, Texas] when you consider the whole transformation from 

citizen to Airman. That was the major point of discussion back then. Why 

go to seven-and-a-half weeks instead of eight-and-a-half when you’re 

going to drop them right into the pipeline training. For some, that’s too 

fast—and then they’re right into their operational bases.

The timing wasn’t right then to cut basic training down to sevenand-a-half weeks. I always knew we could. When I came up here, we 

started to have more in-depth conversations about the profession of arms, 

professionalism, and this idea of dignity and respect. General Welsh talked 

about that a lot. Secretary James talked about it. We all were focused on 

creating a culture of inclusiveness, where Airmen treated each other with 

dignity and respect.

We were working through that in various meetings. We looked 

at things we could do. Then OSD [Office of the Secretary of Defense] 

stood up their professionalism working group. That’s when I went to 

General Welsh and asked to bring some folks in to look at basic training 

again. Instead of cutting the training down to seven-and-a-half weeks for 

efficiency purposes, let’s look at what we could do with that extra week to 

help these Airmen come into the profession of arms. That was the impetus 

to the change.

Most of us that have gone through basic training, whether 

you’re an officer or enlisted Airmen, can appreciate that experience. I 

commonly refer to it as the fog of BMT. You know you were there. You 

know something happened, but you’re excited it’s over. You’ll have 

flashbacks to different moments during the training, but it was too fast to 

comprehend what just happened. You’ve had your whole life up until this 

point, and now suddenly, in two months, you’re this different person.

What we were hoping to do is develop a capstone event, which 

we ended up calling Airmen’s Week, and let the Airmen go through that. 

Let’s let them cross into the blue and become Airmen. Once we give 

you that title, things are different. Whether you know it or not, they’re 

different. We wanted to take some time talking with them about what that 

difference means. We wanted to let them absorb and reflect on what just 

happened and then have a conversation. 

That is the essence of Airmen’s Week. We bring in people from all 

over the globe. It’s not just Americans that join our United States military. 

It is a diverse group of people with different backgrounds, upbringings, 

and values, and they’re coming into an organization that absolutely expects 

them to live up to our core values and high standards. I think what we’re 

getting out of that is, one, a more professional Airman. Two, we are getting 

a more confident Airman. They now understand what just happened at basic 

training, and what is about to happen and what we expect going forward. It’s 

this idea that now you’re a part of the family; you’re part of our Air Force; 

you’re part of this profession.

How do you think the culture of professionalism and 

dignity and respect has changed—not just in your 

tenure but throughout your entire career?

It’s dramatically different. There is no comparison in my opinion. 

That doesn’t mean we had a bunch of unprofessional people and that they 

weren’t great Airmen and great patriots. They absolutely were. I wouldn’t 

be sitting here today if I wasn’t mentored and coached by them. We are so 

much better today because of them. Not because of any bad things they did, 

but because of their commitment to continue to elevate the force. I think we 

should thank them for that. I think we should take that as our responsibility 

to do the same for future generations of Airmen. We hold ourselves to the 

highest of standards—we really do. The things that people would do when 

I first came in, much of that accepted by society, is no longer accepted by 

society; so, we evolve with that.

Nothing I’m saying is disparaging, but the idea that you would even 

contemplate doing some of those things in today’s all-volunteer professional 

military, it just wouldn’t happen. It wouldn’t play for a second. I think we 

have taken the work that those who have gone before us have done, and we 

have continued to build on it. I think we will continue to build on that into 

the future. That doesn’t mean it will be perfect, because it won’t be perfect. 

I just know it will be better.

There is nothing wrong with leaning towards old school on certain 

things, but it can’t be an anchor to your evolution. What are you holding on 

to, and what are you letting go of? That’s what is important. There are certain 

things—our heritage, our pride and history, and the service and sacrifice—

that we must hold on to. We owe those folks a debt of gratitude. To forget 

them would denigrate their legacy. But we can’t celebrate anything that they 

did that was wrong. The fact is it might have been okay then, but to celebrate 

it today when it’s not okay doesn’t make sense. You wouldn’t do it.

I’m proud of our Air Force. I’m proud of where we’re going. It’s 

not without challenge. It always is when you’re trying to institute change, 

especially when things hit to people’s core. When it gets to who they are 

and what they feel and what they believe. There are differences in that for 

many different reasons. How you walk that fine line of being respectful to 

everybody can be difficult. It has been difficult for us.

272
I think what we should be proud of is the fact that we acknowledge 

those differences exist. We don’t just take this one hard line. We are open 

to the dialogue. We’re looking for the best possible answer. It doesn’t 

mean it’s going to be the perfect answer, but the force must continue 

to evolve. The country absolutely demands and expects that we are 

professional. It expects that we are the epitome of every American.

Last question. Chief [CMSAF #18 Kaleth] Wright is 

going to become the 18th Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force very shortly. He’s going to take the 

baton and just carry it forward. What are your 

thoughts on Chief Wright, and what do you expect to 

see from him?

I am really, really excited for our Air Force. I’m absolutely 

confident he is the right chief to be the 18th Chief Master Sergeant of the 

Air Force. There’s just no hesitation. He is going to take our Air Force to 

places that I was never going to be able to get us, or anybody else. He is 

fully qualified and excited about the opportunity. Both he and Tonya will 

represent all Airmen and their families phenomenally well.

He brings his own background. We all come into the seat with our 

own life experiences, our own career experiences, and that’s great. There 

is no one path to that position. He’s the right chief at the right time in 

our Air Force. He will have my unequivocal support, as well as Athena’s, 

as well as the support from all that have gone before us. He and Gen.

Goldfein and our next Secretary of the Air Force and the entire team will 

face challenges, but I am 100-percent confident they will overcome them. 

We always do.

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Airey notes

1. The Air University Library online research center is located 

at http://dtlweb.au.af.mil/webclient/StreamGate?folder_

id=0&dvs=1475862113665~250

2. Paul Airey was born at Saint Luke’s Hospital in New Bedford, 

Massachusetts, on 13 December 1923.

3. An Aldis lamp is a visual signaling device used for optical communication 

during World War II.

4. Paul Airey married Shirley Elizabeth Babbitt of Quincy, Massachusetts, on 

2 February 1946. They had three children: Ellen, Dale, and Shawn.

Harlow NOTES

1. The Air University Library online research center is located at http://

dtlweb.au.af.mil/webclient/DeliveryManager?pid=70668.

2. Donald Harlow was the youngest of nine children, and one of two boys. His 

father died when he was two years old. As a sophomore in high school, he was 

the only child left at home, “so it was necessary for me to leave school.”

3. ATC was the predecessor to Air Education and Training Command 

(AETC). On 1 July 1993, the Air Force established AETC by merging ATC and 

Air University. AETC headquarters is at Randolph AFB, Texas.

4. SAC was the Air Force’s major command in charge of America’s landbased strategic bomber aircraft and land-based intercontinental ballistic missile 

strategic nuclear arsenal from 1946 to 1992. In 1993, as part of a major, post–

Cold War reorganization, the Air Force disestablished SAC. In 2009 SAC’s 

role was reactivated and designated as Air Force Global Strike Command.

5. The DCS/Personnel was the senior Air Force officer responsible for plans 

and policies covering all military personnel. Today the position is referred to as 

the Deputy Chief of Staff for Manpower, Personnel and Services.

6. In 1952 the Air Force designated the Airman ranks as basic Airman (no 

stripe), Airman third class (one stripe), Airman second class (two stripes), 

and Airman first class (three stripes). In October 1967 the titles and terms of 

address were revised to Airman basic (no stripes), Airman (one stripe), Airman 

first class (two stripes), and sergeant (three stripes).

7. Following his retirement, CMSAF Donald Harlow served as a congressional 

lobbyist of the Air Force Sergeants Association, testifying multiple times as a 

voice of the enlisted force.

8. MAC was the Air Force’s strategic airlift command until 1992, when it was 

reorganized and designated Air Mobility Command.

Kisling Notes

1. The Air University Library online research center is located at 

http://dtlweb.au.af.mil/webclient/DeliveryManager?pid=70674.

2. John H. “Jake” Schuffert’s comic strip first appeared in Task Force Times, 

providing US personnel serving in occupied Germany with a much-needed dose 

of daily laughter.

3. The 48th Tactical Fighter wing was at Chaumont Air Base in France until 

1960, when the wing redeployed to Lakenheath AB, United Kingdom.

4. The last active-duty air force chief warrant officer, CWO4 James H. Long, 

retired in 1980. The last Air Force Reserve chief warrant officer, CWO4 Bob 

Barrow, retired in 1992, receiving an honorary promotion to CWO5—the only 

person in the USAF to ever hold this rank.

5. TOPCAP is also referred to as high year tenure.

6. The Stripes for Exceptional Performers program was established in 1980.

7. In 1975 Chief of Staff of the Air Force Gen. David C. Jones established the 

AFMIG. Jones was concerned with the quality of Air Force personnel management. 

He asked Lt Gen Kenneth L. Tallman, who would serve as the deputy chief of staff, 

personnel, HQ USAF, to gather a group of people from all ranks from all over the 

Air Force to discuss management issues and propose solutions.

Barnes Notes

1. The Air University Library online research center is located at dtlweb.au.af.

mil/webclient/DeliveryManager?pid=70680.

2. Two significant events led to Air Force integration. The first was an executive 

order from Pres. Harry Truman. Executive Order 9981, issued on 26 July 1948, 

stated, “It is essential that there be maintained in the Armed Services of the 

United States the highest standards of democracy, with equality of treatments and 

opportunity for all those who serve . . . it is hereby declared to be the policy of the 

President that there shall be equality of treatment and opportunity for all persons 

the Armed Services without regard to race.”

A few months earlier, the Air Force had begun to study the impact of 

segregation on its ability to accomplish the mission effectively. Lt Gen Idwal H. 

Edwards, Air Force DCS/P, directed Lt Col Jack Marr, a staff officer in the office 

of Air Force Personnel to study the issue. In the end, the study found waste and 

inefficiency in only employing African Americans in certain capacities.

The study influenced Gen Carl Spaatz, the first Chief of Staff of the Air Force, 

to issue a statement on integration in April 1948. Spaatz promised that Air Force 

African-Americans would soon be “used on a broader professional scale than 

has obtained heretofore.” He stated that all Airmen would be guaranteed equal 

opportunity regardless of race and that “the ultimate Air Force objective must be 

to eliminate segregation among its personnel by the unrestricted use of Negro 

personnel in free competition for any duty within the Air Force for which they may 

qualify.”

A year later, on 11 May 1949, the Air Force officially released letter No. 35-3 

stating that “there shall be equality of treatment and opportunity in the Air Force 

without regard to race, color, religion or national origin.” Desegregation of units 

began immediately, and on 1 June 1949, Air Force basic training officially ended 

racial segregation, assigning recruits to squadrons by gender and time of arrival 

only.

For a complete study on Air Force integration, we recommend, Alan L. 

Gropman, The Air Force Integrates: 1945–1964 (Washington, DC: Office of Air 

Force History, 1978).

3. Class 26 is a designation for aircraft used as ground instructional training 

equipment only.

4. At one point, technical training had a self-pacing process, where Airmen 

studied the material at their own pace.

274
5. The Moskos theory refers to the institution–occupation thesis developed by 

Charles Moskos. In his thesis, he argues that an all-volunteer force would move 

the service away from a military institution, where men and women sacrifice 

individual self-interest in favor of a higher good, to an occupation, where men 

and women choose to work strictly for monetary rewards.

Gaylor Notes

1. Pres. Harry Truman issued Executive Order 9981 on 26 July 1948, 

stating, “It is essential that there be maintained in the Armed Services of the 

United States the highest standards of democracy, with equality of treatments 

and opportunity for all those who serve...it is hereby declared to be the policy 

of the president that there shall be equality of treatment and opportunity for all 

persons the Armed Services without regard to race.” 

A year later, on 11 May 1949, the Air Force officially released letter No 

35-3, stating that “there shall be equality of treatment and opportunity in the Air 

Force without regard to race, color, religion or national origin.”

2. Olive drab one piece coverall.

3. Gary AFB was transitioned to the Army and renamed Camp Gary in 1956. 

It closed in 1963.

4. The WAF was formed in 1948 as a way to bring women into the Air Force 

in limited roles. Originally, WAF was limited to 4,000 enlisted women and 

300 female officers, all of whom were encouraged to fill a variety of ground duty 

roles—mostly clerical and medical—but were not to be trained as pilots.

In 1976, when women were accepted into the USAF on an equal basis with 

men, the WAF program ended, but not before many milestones were achieved 

and marked along the way in preparation for today’s USAF woman.

The first WAF recruit was Sgt Esther Blake, who enlisted on 8 July 1948 

in the first minute of the first day that regular Air Force duty was authorized for 

women.

McCoy Notes

1. The PDG is a book of Air Force information that enlisted Airmen use to 

study for the Weighted Airman Promotion System testing. In 2015 the book 

evolved into the larger Airman Handbook.

2. Maur Hill High School is a college prep high school in Atchison, Kansas.

3. Sampson AFB, New York, was an Air Force basic military training base 

from 1951 to 1956. With the influx of enlistees due to the Korean War, the Air 

Force opened Sampson as well as Park AFB, California, in addition to Lackland 

AFB, Texas.

4. Many PME academies were shut down due to funding issues during the 

Vietnam War.

5. With the exception of NCO Academies in US Air Forces in Europe and 

Pacific Air Forces.

6. The Weighted Airman Promotion System was introduced in 1969.

7. Gen John M. Paxton Jr.

8. Kincheloe AFB was in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The base closed in 

1977. K. I. Sawyer was in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. The base closed in 

1995.

Andrews Notes

1. Fairfield Air Force Station was a little station on a site adjacent to 

Travis AFB, California. It was home to the 3083rd Aviation Depot Group, and its 

primary mission was to store and maintain nuclear weapons. The site dissolved in 

July 1962 and is now part of Travis AFB.

2. The Air Force Logistics Command (AFLC) was activated on 1 April 1961, 

assuming the supply and maintenance missions from the Air Material Command. 

Functions of AFLC merged with those of Air Force Systems Command (AFSC) to 

form Air Force Materiel Command on 1 July 1992.

3. AFSC split from Air Material Command in April 1951, assuming primary 

responsibility for research and development (R&D) of new weapons systems. 

Functions of AFSC merged with those of AFLC to form Air Force Materiel 

Command on 1 July 1992.

4. EWQ was a precursor to today’s senior Airman Below-the-Zone promotion 

program.

5. During CMSAF Eric Benken’s tenure, he changed the title of senior enlisted 

adviser to command chief master sergeant (CCM). With the change came the new 

insignia featuring a star in the chevron that identified the command chief master 

sergeant to the troops.

6. The two-tier promotion system was an Air Force initiative to balance 

the shortages and overages among the various AFSCs. Airmen competed for 

promotion under WAPS in two groups. The first group was comprised of all those 

eligible Airmen in AFSCs known as chronic critical shortage (CCS) skills, and the 

second group was comprised of all those eligible Airmen in the non-CCS AFSCs. 

The AFSCs designated as CCS skills received a five-percentage-point higher 

selection rate than the non-CCS skills. For example, if the non-CCS selection rate 

was 25 percent, then the CCS rate was 30 percent.

7. Airman Performance Reports were the predecessor to Enlisted Performance 

Reports. They were established in 1960 and used a one–nine rating scale. The 

major complaint of the APR was that it was overinflated; every Airman received a 

nine rating.

In 1989, in an effort to uninflate performance reports, CMSAF Jim Binnicker 

introduced an enlisted evaluation system that included enlisted performance 

reports (EPR) with a one–five rating scale and a performance feedback worksheet. 

When the Air Force released the EPRs, they provided an expectation that only 

a small percentage of Airmen would receive the highest “5” rating. While the 

expectation stuck for a few years, the EPRs soon became inflated as well. By 2013 

roughly 85 percent of Airmen and NCOs and 90 percent of SNCOs received a “5” 

rating. 

In 2015 CMSAF Jim Cody introduced a new Enlisted Evaluation System 

that included updated EPRs, Promotion Recommendations, and “Forced 

Distribution,” which limited the number of top promotion recommendations a 

commander could give his or her promotion eligible Airmen.

Parish Notes

1. The AQE was used by USAF Recruiting to determine qualification for 

voluntary enlistment in the Air Force.

The first Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery [ASVAB] test was 

introduced in 1968 as part of the student testing program. The Air Force began 

using the ASVAB test in 1973. 

275
2. The Speckled Trout was a C-135C Aircraft that was the primary transport 

aircraft for every chief of staff of the Air Force from1974 to 2006.

3. In 1985 the average promotion wait to senior airman was 42 months. 

According to Parish “it floated and depended on vacancies and the amount of 

money available for promotions.” Parish worked to promote qualified Airmen 

to E–4 at a set point in their first enlistment, thereby allowing them a shot at the 

rank of staff sergeant before their first four years ended.

Binnicker Notes

1. Janet R. Bedarnek, ed., Generations of Chevrons: A History of the Enlisted 

Force (Washington, DC: Air Force History and Museums Program, 2004), 

143, http://media.defense.gov/2010/May/26/2001330290/-1/-1/0/

AFD-100526-031.pdf.

2. Ibid.

3. Ibid.

4. Today the personal equipment career field is aircrew flight equipment 

[1P0XI].

5. Bedarnek, Generations of Chevrons, 144.

6. Jimmy Carter, “Executive Order 11998–President’s Commission on 

Military Compensation,” The American Presidency Project, http://www.

presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/?pid=7731.

7. Bedarnek, Generations of Chevrons, 146.

8. US Air Force Summary, FY 1988/1989 (amended; US Air Force 

Statistical Digest, FY 1991.

9. The Air Force requested an additional 6,500 NCO authorizations for 

fiscal year (FY) 1987. The promotion cycles in FY 1986 were made with the 

expectation that the request for more authorizations would be approved, but it 

was not. The lack of additional authorizations, combined with higher than usual 

retention rates, meant the Air Force had very few vacancies for promotions in 

1987.

10. John Ginovsky, “End of EM Promotion Delays in Sight,” Air Force Times, 

27 July 1987, 1.

11. James C. Binnicker, “America’s Best and Brightest,” Sergeants, August 

1987, 10–11.

12. Ginovsky, “End of EM Promotion Delays,” 1.

13. In 1985, in an effort to save costs, the Air Force mandated extensions for 

overseas tours. Binnicker’s top priority when stepping into the Chief Master 

Sergeant of the Air Force position was to find out how Airmen were reacting to 

the extensions.

14. “Airman’s Interview This Month: CMSAF James C. Binnicker,” Airman, 

July 1987, 8–9.

15. Ibid.

16. Steve Weber, “Binnicker Considers EES as Main Accomplishment,” Air 

Force Times 50, no. 52, 6 August 1990, 13.

17. “Airman’s Interview This Month,” 8–9.

18. Bedarnek, Generations of Chevrons, 149.

19. After the initial implementation of the APR in 1989, the Air Force made 

a number of initial changes to ensure fair ratings across the board. One of the 

changes was to clarify that there were no quotas, but the expectation was to rate 

Airmen fairly and accurately. Additionally, the Air Force put considerable effort 

into educating the force throughout the year 1990.

20. Steve Weber, “Binnicker: Education about EES a Priority,” Air Force Times 

50, no. 26, 5 February 1990, 6.

21. Ibid.

22. Weber, “Binnicker considers EES,” 3.

23. Bedarnek, Generations of Chevrons, 147.

24. Ibid., 150.

25. Ibid.

26. A1C Jarrod Grammel, “Enlisted Village Cares for AF Widows, Families,” Air 

Force News Service, 14 August 2012, http://www.af.mil/News/ArticleDisplay/

tabid/223/Article/110631/enlisted-village-cares-for-af-widows-families.aspx.

27. Bedarnek, Generations of Chevrons, 151.

Pfingston Notes

1. Janet R. Bedarnek, ed., Generations of Chevrons: A History of 

the Enlisted Force (Washington, DC: Air Force History and Museums Program, 

2004), 158, http://media.defense.gov/2010/May/26/2001330290/-1/-1/0/

AFD-100526-031.pdf.

2. Ibid., 159–60.

3. In September 1990, a month after Pfingston assumed the role of the CMSAF, 

Secretary of Defense Richard B. Cheney relieved General Dugan after the general 

had revealed war plans to reporters. Gen Merrill A. McPeak was selected to replace 

General Dugan.

4. US Air Force Statistical Digest, FY 1991.

5. US Air Force Statistical Digest, FY 1995.

6. The 1992 Year of Training initiative was a top-to-bottom reevaluation of Air 

Force training and skill development. It resulted in a number of initiatives and 

organizational changes.

7. During the Cuban missile crisis, Pfingston was assigned as a B-52 crew chief 

at Castle AFB, California.

8. Bedarnek, Generations of Chevrons, 157.

9. Ibid., 157–58.

10. Ibid., 158–59.

11. Ibid., 160–61.

12. “Airman’s Interview This Month: CMSAF Gary R. Pfingston,” Airman, 

September 1990, 8-9.

276
13. TSgt. Sarah L. Hood, “Update from the CMSAF,” Airman, January 1994, 

16–17.

14. Ibid.

15. Bedarnek, Generations of Chevrons, 163.

16. Hood, “Update from the CMSAF,” 16–17.

17. Ibid.

18. “Assurances in Times of Uncertainty,” Sergeants 32, no. 1 (January–

February 1993): 14–15.

19. Gary R. Pfingston, “Moral Obligation,” Sergeants 30, no. 5 (June 1991): 

10–11.

20. “Down to Earth,” Sergeants 30, no. 1 (January–February 1991): 10–12.

21. “A Walk around the Air Force,” Sergeants 31, no. 1 (January–February 

1992): 34.

22. Ibid.

23. Colleen A. Nash, “Airman’s Advocate,” Air Force Magazine 73, no. 12 

(December 1990): 72–73.

Campanale Notes

1. Today, a senior enlisted leader of a wing is called a Command Chief.

2. The Mobility Airlift Command transitioned to the Air Mobility Command 

on 1 June 1992.

3. Operation Uphold Democracy was a military operation on 18 September 

1994 designed to intervene in Haiti and remove the military regime that 

overthrew the elected Haitian president, Jean-Bertrand Aristide.

At nearly the last minute, President Carter persuaded the military leader in 

Haiti to relinquish control, and the mission changed to an airlift peacekeeping 

mission.

Benken Notes

1. A Quonset hut is a lightweight, easy to assemble, prefabricated steel 

structure. It has a semicircle cross section, which gives the hut its particular 

look. It was inexpensive and took little skill or manpower to construct, yet it was 

robust and able to withstand the elements.

2. San Quentin State Prison is a petitionary for men, located north of San 

Francisco, California. It opened in July of 1852 and is the oldest prison in the 

state.

3. On 29 January1973, the US military draft (Selective Service) ended, and 

the military transitioned to an all-volunteer force.

4. CMSAF Benken served from 1970 to 1999.

5. According to the US Air Force Statistical Digest of Fiscal Year 1970, in 

January of 1970, the Air Force had 842,667 Airmen in all components (Active, 

Guard, and Reserve).

6. “Hollow force” refers to a military service that appears strong and ready for 

combat missions but in reality suffers from manpower and equipment shortages, as 

well as decreased mission readiness.

7. The Berlin Wall separated West Berlin from East Berlin and East Germany 

from August 1961 to 9 November 1989.

8. Operation Northern Watch enforced the no-fly zone over Iraq from the 

36-degree north latitude line to the Turkish and Iranian borders. It operated out 

of Incirlik AB, Turkey. The operation continued for more than a month after the 

start of Operation Iraqi Freedom and officially ended on 1 May 2003. Operation 

Southern Watch enforced the no-fly zone over Iraq from the 32-degree latitude 

line south to the borders of Kuwait and Saudi Arabia. It operated out of bases in 

Saudi Arabia, Kuwait and Bahrain and continued until March of 2003, when the 

United States began Operation Iraqi Freedom.

9. The Fulda Gap is a valley in central Germany, which was a focus area during 

the Cold War. It was widely considered the likely location for an attack and 

subsequent battle against the Soviet Union.

10. Partnership for Peace (PfP) was established in 1994 as a bilateral cooperation 

program between Euro-Atlantic partners and NATO. It allowed countries to 

develop an individual partnership with NATO to increase stability and decrease 

threats in the region.

11. The Aviano 2000 Program was a NATO initiative that began in 1995 as a 

result of increased operations from Aviano AB. In 1992, USAFE withdrew from 

Torrejon AB, Spain, and the 401st Fighter Wing and 16th Air Force moved to 

Aviano AB, Italy. NATO agreed to support a massive construction project to 

revitalize Aviano, which prior to the move was not widely used. The program 

ushered in hundreds of new construction and renovation projects, including new 

communications and utilities infrastructure, recreation centers, and dormitories. 

The program included 300 construction projects with a total cost of $565 million, 

one of the largest single DOD construction programs.

12. Following the collapse of Yugoslavia in 1991, the Serbs, led by Slobodan 

Milosevic, targeted Bosniak and Croatian civilians in a campaign of ethnic 

cleansing. The campaign killed more than 100,000 people and displaced more 

than two million in just three years. In July 1995 Serb forces expelled 25,000 

women and children and killed up to 8,000 men and teenage boys in the town 

of Srebrenica. The killings are known as the Srebrenica massacre, the largest 

massacre in Europe after the Holocaust.

13. On 14 December 1995, following more than three years of civil war and 

strife in Bosnia-Herzegovina, the presidents of Bosnia, Croatia, and Serbia signed 

a peace settlement in Paris. The agreement authorized NATO to intervene with 

60,000 military personnel (20,000 US service members) to implement and 

enforce peace and facilitate the reconstruction of the country. The next nine 

years saw three successive NATO peace enforcement operations: Operation Joint 

Endeavor, Operation Joint Guard, and Operation Joint Forge.

Finch Notes

1. In November 1950, 8,000 fighters, mostly US Marines, weathered the coldest 

North Korean winter in a century, surrounded by 120,000 Chinese soldiers. 

There only lifeline was a 15 foot-wide, danger-riddled mountain road leading to 

the port city of Hungnam. For two weeks, these intrepid warriors conducted a 

grueling 78- mile withdrawal, one of the longest in American military history. It 

took 13 days and cost many lives. For more information, see Thomas McKelvey 

Cleaver, The Frozen Chosen: The 1st Marine Division and the Battle of the Chosin 

River (Oxford, UK: Osprey, 2016).

277
2. The Air Force Management Improvement Group (AFMIG) grew out of 

discussions in March 1975 between Gen David C. Jones, chief of staff, USAF, 

and Lt Gen Kenneth L. Tallman, USAF, shortly before Tallman became deputy 

chief of staff for personnel. General Jones was concerned about the quality of 

Air Force personnel management. He asked General Tallman to gather together 

people from all ranks and from all parts of the Air Force to discuss a wide range 

of management issues and propose possible solutions to problem areas. Among 

the issues discussed were management of the NCO force, what an NCO is, how 

an Airman becomes an NCO, and what kind of recognition, responsibility, and 

authority should come with the NCO rank. The AFMIG also suggested several 

ways to raise the prestige of senior and chief master sergeants. In addition, the 

AFMIG led to a number of management changes in facilities, billeting, and mess 

halls. Lt Gen Kenneth L. Tallman, oral history interview, 11–12 December 

1984, 135–41.

3. According to Air Force Instruction 36-2110, Assignments, a Code 50 is 

an enlisted Airmen “assigned duties in units or activities whose tour is limited to 

preclude prolonged assignment outside normal duties.”

4. The College for Enlisted PME, called the Thomas N. Barnes Center, was 

developed in 1993.

5. Lt Gen Joseph W. Ralston was the commander of Eleventh Air Force.

6. The Department of Defense establishes an order of precedence for 

executive schedule, general officer/flag officer, civilian senior executive service 

employees, and some specific senior leader positions within the department. 

The list is used to identify official visit activities, assignment of government 

quarters, seating arrangements, and similar requirements at official functions 

and other administrative matters. Each senior leader falls under a precedence 

“code” that determines the order of precedence. The Chief Master Sergeant of 

the Air Force position, as well as the each of the service senior enlisted leaders 

and the Senior Enlisted Advisor to the Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff (SEAC) is 

currently coded as DV-4.

Murray Notes

1. The original master sergeant stripe was six stripes, all pointing 

downward. When the senior master sergeants’ (SMSgt) and chief master 

sergeants’ (CMSgt) stripes were introduced in 1959, they were the only 

two insignias to have stripes pointing upward: one for SMSgt and two for 

CMSgt. In 1991, CSAF Gen Merrill McPeak and CMSAF Gary Pfingston 

revealed new chevrons in a test status, taking one stripe off the bottom and 

putting it at the top, starting with master sergeant. Senior master sergeant 

had two stripes up with five down, and chief master sergeant had three up 

with five down.

2. CMSAF Murray wore the 6-down, 2-up CMSgt stripe for two months 

before moving to the new 5-down, 3-up stripe in January 1995. He then 

wore the command chief star insignia and the CMSAF insignia without the 

Great Seal of the United States and two stars in the center blue field. The seal 

and stars were added to the CMSAF insignia during Murray’s tenure. He 

debuted the new stripes on 1 November 2004.

3. The change to the chevrons in the early 1990s also included the 

removal of the silver-tinted stripes, which were replaced by the larger, 

bold white stripes worn on the service dress, mess dress, and blue uniforms 

today.

4. In August 1990, Iraq invaded Kuwait. Iraqi forces occupied the 

capital, Kuwait City, and Saddam Hussein soon annexed the country as 

the nineteenth province of Iraq. In response, the US government initiated 

Operation Desert Shield to deter and contain potential attacks against 

neighboring countries. In two weeks, the United States had based fighter, 

attack, reconnaissance, electronic warfare, airlift, and tanker aircraft in the 

Gulf region.

In November 1990, the United Nations Security Council passed Resolution 

678 authorizing member states, cooperating with the government of Kuwait, 

to use “all necessary means” to enforce a prior resolution that demanded 

Iraq withdraw unconditionally from Kuwait. On 12 January 1991, Congress 

authorized the use of US armed forces against Iraq, pursuant to Resolution 

678. When the UN’s 15 January deadline for withdrawal passed, Pres. George 

H. W. Bush signed a national security directive authorizing US military 

action. At 3:00 a.m. local time on 17 January 1991, coalition aircraft set 

forth on the largest air campaign since the conflict in Southeast Asia.

5. In 1990, prior to Desert Storm/Desert Shield, there were 539,000 

active-duty Airmen, 84,000 Reserve Airmen, 117,000 Air National Guard 

Airmen, and 261,000 civilian Airmen—more than one million total. By 

1995, those numbers had dropped to 400,000 on active duty, 78,000 in 

the Reserves, 110,000 in the Air National Guard, and 187,000 civilians for 

a total of 775,000 Airmen. In 2000, a decade after Desert Storm/Desert 

Shield, the numbers had dropped down to 353,000 on active duty, 74,000 in 

the Reserves, 108,000 in the Air National Guard, and 162,000 civilians for a 

total of 697,000 Airmen.

6. The Program Objective Memorandum (POM) is the service’s plan to 

allocate resources, covering the five-year Future Year Defense Program 

(FYDP).

McKinely Notes

1. On 15 June 1991, Mount Pinatubo erupted. Just prior to the eruption, nearly 

15,000 American service personnel were ordered to evacuate Clark AB. The 

noncombatant evacuation operation (NEO) was called Operation Fiery Vigil. At 

that time, Clark AB was one of the largest US bases overseas.

2. During Operation Iraqi Freedom, coalition forces launched more than 1,700 

air sorties and missile launches against Iraq, including 300–400 cruise missile 

strikes on day one. The massive initial force was based on the “shock and awe” 

military strategy. The concept is to project overwhelming power and spectacular 

displays of force focused on the psychological destruction of the enemies will to 

fight, rather than the physical destruction of the opposing military force.

3. Program Budget Decision (PBD) 720, Air Force Transformation Flight 

Plan, 28 December 2005, proposed reducing the active force by about 40,000 

personnel to meet Air Force recapitalization and modernization requirements.

4. Air Force Global Strike Command was activated on 7 August 2009.

5. Secretary of Defense Robert Gates relieved both Secretary of the Air Force 

Michael Wynne and the Chief of Staff of the Air Force, Gen Michael Moseley, on 

5 June 2008. The move came following two nuclear mishaps. The first, on 30 

August 2007, occurred when a B-52 bomber mistakenly flew from Minot AFB, 

North Dakota, to Barksdale AFB, Louisiana, armed with six nuclear warheads. 

The second, in March 2008, happened when the Air Force discovered it had 

mistakenly shipped secret nuclear missile fuses to Taiwan in August 2006. In 

his statement, Secretary Gates said his decision was because “the focus of the Air 

Force leadership has drifted with respect to perhaps its most sensitive mission.” 

278
Roy Notes

1. Similar to an Air Force specialty code, the Army has a military occupational 

specialty (MOS). Today’s MOS designators have changed since CMSAF Roy 

joined the Air Force and began training in 1982. However, when CMSAF Roy 

joined the Air Force his single AFSC correlated with multiple Army MOS codes, 

including 62E (heavy construction equipment operator), 62F (crane operator), 

62G (quarrying specialist), 62H (concrete and asphalt equipment operator), and 

62J (general construction equipment operator).

2. CMSAF Roy had three priorities during his tenure as the 16th CMSAF: 

building and working within joint and coalition teams, deliberate development, 

and resiliency of our Airmen and families.

3. The Department of Defense created and designed provincial reconstruction 

teams to help with the reconstruction, security, and governing of Afghanistan.

4. Lieutenant General Reno was the Deputy Chief of Staff for Logistics, 

Installations, and Mission Support, Headquarters US Air Force. He retired on 1 

February 2012.

5. The 315th Airlift Wing is a reserve wing out of Charleston AFB, 

South Carolina, that provides and delivers global combat-ready C-17 airlift, 

expeditionary combat support, and aeromedical evacuation anytime, anywhere. 

CMSAF Roy was the command chief master sergeant of the 437th Airlift Wing 

at Charleston AFB from September 2002–May 2004.

Cody Notes

1. The Enlisted Board of Directors is made up of major command command 

chiefs and Airmen serving as combatant command senior enlisted leaders.

2. Dual rated is the term an air traffic controller uses when they are qualified 

and “rated” to serve in both the air traffic control tower and the radar approach 

control.

3. Join-spouse is a term used to mean two members who are married and both 

serving in the military.

4. In 1989 CMSAF Jim Binnicker led the transformation from Airman 

Performance Reports, which rated an Airman’s performance on a 1–9 scale, to 

the Enlisted Performance Report, which rated an Airman’s performance on a 

1–5 scale. The impetus behind the move was overinflated APRs, where every 

Airman received a 9 rating.

5. CMSAF Cody led an overhaul of the EPR system to once again combat 

overinflation. The new system, implemented in 2014, introduced promotion 

recommendations, forced distribution and restricted stratification, which 

together limited the number of top promotion recommendations a commander 

could give his or her Airmen.

6. Operation Provide Comfort was a humanitarian mission to provide relief 

supplies to the ethnic Kurds in northern Iraq. It occurred in different phases 

from 1991 to 31 December 1996.

7. Operation Northern Watch enforced the no-fly zone over northern Iraq and 

monitored the Iraqis to determine their compliance with UN Security Council 

resolutions. The operation was based out of Incirlik Air Base and consisted 

of US, Turkish, and British forces. It began on 1 January 1997 and ended 17 

March 2003.

8. Stop loss is a term used when the Department of Defense is given the 

authority to retain service members past their separation or retirement date. It was 

imposed for brief periods in 2001, 2002, and 2003.

9. On 12 January 2010, a 7.0-magnitude earthquake struck the Caribbean 

island nation of Haiti. The earthquake killed more than 200,000 people and left 

more than 895,000 people homeless.

10. Operation Unified Response was the US military’s humanitarian mission 

following the earthquake in Haiti. Airmen flew more than 400 missions into Portau-Prince, delivering nearly 6,000 support members and 19 million pounds of 

cargo.

11. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was a law banning homosexual men and women from 

openly serving in the military. The law was repealed on 20 September 2011.

12. Sequestration refers to the automatic spending cuts resulting from the Budget 

Control Act of 2011. The law went into effect on 1 March 2013 and mandated 

$1.2 trillion in cuts across federal agencies over 10 years. The Air Force was 

forced to reduce flying hours, stop flyovers and air shows, temporarily cancel 

tuition assistance, furlough civilian employees, and reduce overall manpower 

among other measures intended to cut costs across the board.

13. A1 is the designation for the Manpower, Personnel, and Services directorate 

of Headquarters Air Force.

14. Developmental special duties are unique leadership roles where an Airman 

has the responsibility to mentor and mold future leaders. To ensure the highest 

quality Airmen are assigned to these positions, the Air Force implemented a 

nomination process. The nomination process provides commanders, through 

their respective major command, an opportunity to nominate their best Airmen 

to fill these critical positions. The positions are Academy Military Training NCO, 

Airman & Family Readiness NCO, USAF Honor Guard NCO, Career Assistance 

Advisor, First Sergeant, Military Training Instructor, Military Training Leader, 

PME Instructor, Recruiter, and Technical Training Instructor.

15. In 2011 and 2012, 17 military training instructors were convicted of 

misconduct with trainees—from fraternization, rape, adultery, and sexual assault. 

The misconduct involved 43 female trainees who were victimized by their 

instructors during and after basic military training.

279
The following chronology is primarily derived from the research of 

TSgt Barry L. Spink, outlined in the document A Chronology of the 

Enlisted Rank Chevron of the United States Air Force, and published by the 

Air Force Historical Research Agency on 19 February 1992.1 

A Chronology of 

the Air Force 

Enlisted Chevrons

280 1. The document is available online at http://www.afhra.af.mil/Portals/16/documents/Studies/AFD-090611-103.pdf
18 september

1947

9 march

1948

When the Air Force became a separate 

service, it retained the enlisted ranks and 

chevrons used in the Army Air Forces 

(AAF) and continued to refer to the 

enlisted members as Soldiers.

Air Force leaders, including Gen. Hoyt 

S. Vandenberg, the Chief of Staff of the 

Air Force (CSAF), gather to approve new 

enlisted chevrons for the US Air Force. 

New chevrons had been tested at Bolling 

AFB, Washington, DC, and were selected 

by 55 percent of the Airmen who were 

polled to determine the preferred style of 

the new stripes. 

A Chronology of the Air Force Enlisted Chevrons

Gen. Vandenberg approved the choice, 

and the Air Force implemented the new 

chevrons. There is no documentation 

that discusses the rationale behind the 

design, although some believe the stripes 

represent a combination between the 

shoulder patch worn by members of the 

AAF during World War II and the insignia 

used on aircraft. The size of the chevrons 

was four inches wide for men and three 

inches wide for women.

281
soldiers

sailors

20 february

1950

AIRMEN

22 september

1954

24 april

1952

Gen. Vandenberg directs that enlisted 

personnel be referred to as “Airman” 

(singular) and Airmen (plural) to 

distinguish them from Soldiers, Marines, 

and Sailors. 

The Air Force publishes Air Force 

Regulation 39-36, changing the names of the 

lower ranks and formalizing the restriction 

of noncommissioned officer (NCO) status 

to staff sergeant, technical sergeant, and 

master sergeant. The chevrons remained the 

same; however, discussion began to change 

the chevrons for the classes of Airmen (first, 

second, and third). A design was proposed 

with horizontal stripes, reserving the 

angled stripes we know today for NCOs. 

Gen. Vandenberg approved the new stripes 

in December of 1952 but ordered them not 

to be procured until the stock of existing 

chevrons was depleted. Four years later, 

in March 1956, the stock was depleted and 

the proposal to change the stripes was again 

submitted to the new CSAF, Gen. Nathan 

F. Twining. Gen. Twining disapproved the 

change, stating simply “No change to be 

made in insignia.”

Gen. Twining approves a distinctive chevron for first sergeants, adding the traditional 

diamond in the V above the master sergeant 

chevron. At that time, master sergeant was 

the only approved rank for first sergeants.

282
 5 february

1959

 3 april

1967

 20 may

1958

Basic AIRMaN AIRMaN basic

Congress passes the Military Pay Act of 

1958 (Public Law 85-422), authorizing 

two additional enlisted grades of E-8 

and E-9. The primary reasons for 

establishing the two grades were to clarify 

responsibilities and authorities among 

the many master sergeants and to resolve 

enlisted retention issues due to a lack 

of promotion opportunities. Air Force 

leaders developed titles and chevrons 

for the new grades. Their main intent in 

the process was to build on the existing 

structure and chevrons but differentiate 

between the junior Airmen, the skilled 

sergeants, and the supervisory level ranks. 

Major commands provided their input, 

The Air Force releases a new governing 

regulation for enlisted ranks, changing the 

name of “basic airman” to “airman basic.”

CMSgt. Paul Airey becomes the first Chief 

Master Sergeant of the Air Force (CMSAF) 

and dons the new CMSAF chevron. 

Several designs were proposed for the new 

chevron, including an additional stripe on 

top of the existing chief master sergeant 

chevron (6 down, 3 up). However, after 

CMSgt. Donald Harlow modeled the 

proposed chevron, Air Force leaders 

determined it was simply “too much.” 

Harlow, who at the time was working in 

the Executive Services Division, 

Office of the Vice Chief of Staff, modeled 

an additional design that added a 

surrounding wreath around the star 

in the existing chief master sergeant 

chevron. When Air Force leaders asked 

Harlow which chevron he preferred, he 

chose the chevron with the wreath due to 

its simplicity.

and senior master sergeant (E8) and 

chief master sergeant (E9) were the most 

popular. There were a number of ideas 

for the new chevrons, including adding 

additional stars or diamonds to the current 

chevron, but the final choice was to add 

two additional stripes pointing in the 

opposite direction and superimposed on 

top of the current chevron. The first senior 

master sergeants were promoted on 1 

September 1958, and the first chief master 

sergeants were promoted a year later.

283
 19 october

1967

19 march

1991

 1 june

1976

The Air Force changes the titles and 

terms of address for the first four grades, 

restoring the NCO status to the E-4 

grade. The change aligned the NCO 

ranks in the Air Force with those of the 

other services and allowed many Airmen 

to reach the NCO “sergeant” rank during 

their first enlistment, which was thought 

to be a factor in retention. 

Air Force leaders change the E-2 through 

E-4 grade structure to further establish 

a three-tier enlisted force structure 

(Airman, NCO, and senior NCO). The 

change included an additional E-4 rank 

of “senior Airman.” New criteria was 

established for senior Airman to advance 

to the NCO “sergeant” rank (also E-4 

and often referred to as “buck sergeant”), 

including 12 months’ time-in-grade 

and completion of the NCO Preparatory 

Course. Additionally, the change included 

new chevrons for senior airman and below. 

The chevrons replaced the silver star in the 

chevron with a subdued blue star, which 

was often difficult to see from a distance.

Gen. Merrill A. McPeak, CSAF, announces 

the termination of the E-4 NCO 

“sergeant” rank with the intent to 

improve the ratio of NCOs to Airmen. 

E-4 sergeants were allowed to continue 

with the rank until they were promoted to 

E-5 “staff sergeant” or separated from 

the Air Force.

sergeant

senior airman

buck sergeant

airman

airman first class

12 months Time 

in Grade 

Completion of NCO 

Preparatory Course

284
 1 november

1998

1 november

2004 

 october

1991

CMSAF Gerald Murray introduces a new 

chevron for the CMSAF. The process to 

establish a new chevron began in October 

2002 and included a number of design 

proposals. One such proposal simply 

moved the wreath and star to the center 

blue field; however, Air Force leaders felt 

it did not capture the spirit of the position. 

The Air Force needed a chevron that 

clearly identified its top enlisted leader 

but maintained the heritage of the position 

and chevrons. The approved chevron left 

the wreath and star in the lower portion 

of the chevron and in the middle added 

the U.S. American eagle insignia with two 

stars on either side.

Gen. McPeak and CMSAF Gary Pfingston 

reveal proposed changes to the enlisted 

chevrons. The proposal returned the 

silver star to all chevrons and moved 

one of the stripes from the bottom of 

CSAF Gen. Michael Ryan and CMSAF 

Eric Benken implement the new insignia 

and title chief master sergeants serving 

in senior enlisted advisor positions. The 

new title was command chief master 

sergeant, which included a chevron with 

an additional star located in the blue field.

the master sergeant, senior master 

sergeant, chief master sergeant, and 

CMSAF chevrons and placed it at the top. 

After a long test and transition period, 

the new chevrons became mandatory on 

1 October 1997.

285
Air University Press