Fire Alarm in the Barracks!
At 4:00 AM the fire alarm screamed throughout the barracks. As happened every time the barracks were to be inspected, about 60 sleepy-eyed, blanket-wrapped airmen exited each of the four doors of the two story barracks--60 stumbled out of the top north door, 60 from the bottom north door, 60 from the top south door and 60 from the bottom south door. We always stood outside on the grass for five to ten minutes, and, then, re-entered the barracks to start the day and prepare for the upcoming inspection. This was probably our 8th inspection and and we all knew the routine.
But, on this cold Wednesday morning November 25, 1961--there was a variation. Some blanket-wrapped, bare-footed airman on the second floor, north end stood in the hallway and said we don't need to go outside--we're already awake, we know the drill. Someone else agreed and stood by his door encouraging others to stay put as well. Some got to the north end fire exit stairway, saw how cold it was outside and quickly agreed with those prescient young men who stood their ground in the hallway and refused to go outside. When I came out of my door, about 59 airmen were standing in the hallway assuring each other that this was the wisest thing to do--why did it take us so long to figure this out? I quickly saw the logic and joined these north end, top floor fire drill miscreants.
We stood in the hallway and talked until we saw the airmen on the south end, top floor of the building re-entering their doorway. We marveled at our cleverness, returned to our rooms and started our day of showering, shaving, dressing and polishing everything that could be polished for inspection. It would be a good day and the upcoming four-day Thanksgiving weekend would be even better. Life is good.
But, maybe not. MSgt Freeman T. Evans--without knocking--opened the door of our room, looked in at the three of us and said, "My office." We looked at each other and walked into the hallway. Sgt Evans was headed downstairs to his office at the center of the first floor of the barracks. Sixty variously-dressed airmen stood in front of Sgt. Evans desk. "Why didn't you go outside like you're supposed to during a fire drill?" No one volunteered an answer. It was a very quiet five seconds. Then, Sergeant Evans said, "Go get your Class A passes and put them right here," tapping the corner of his desk. "You can come get your pass back on Monday." He grabbed and began reading some important-looking paper indicating to each of us that this discussion was over.
Thirty somewhat dazed young airmen walked upstairs, rifled their wallets, looked lovingly at their Class A Pass and then headed back downstairs. The stack of cards on Sgt Evans desk was growing when I got there but I dreamed that he would say something like, "Keep your card, I was just making a point, go ahead and enjoy the Thanksgiving weekend."
But, no. It was done. Sixty young airmen would spend Thanksgiving weekend on base--no off-base movies, no off-base travel, no off-base restaurants, no off-base visits, no off-base dates. We were stuck! Some of us had planned to go to a nearby home--Doris and Ralph Hannah had invited some of us to their home for Thanksgiving dinner--and, a few airmen had dates for the weekend. Nobody had expected to spend the entire Thanksgiving weekend on base! (Although Air Police--APs--rarely checked Class A Passes off base, there was always the chance of getting checked while leaving or entering the base through one of the many armed and guarded gates. Yep, we were stuck on base for Thanksgiving weekend.)
Jailbreak
On Wednesday evening, after many airmen in other parts of our barracks had departed for their long weekend, Ed Kinney, Bill Macklin and I met in a secluded area and I presented my jailbreak plan.
Today, I had reserved one of the Aero Club's Cessna 172s for noon Thanksgiving Day. My plan was this: at noon on Thanksgiving Day, we would take off from McConnell AFB, fly to Wichita's Mid-Continent Airport, bum a ride to our favorite restaurant, enjoy the Thanksgiving dinner that we had planned weeks ago, bum a ride back to Mid-Continent and then fly back to the Air Base. We would never pass through one of the base's guarded gates.
The next day, Thanksgiving morning was bright and clear.We boarded our Cessna 172, I taxied out to 12,000 foot long runway 18R and we departed the base. Our day went as planned, Thanksgiving dinner was better than expected, and, late Thursday afternoon back at the base, we walked into the barracks day room where 50 or so bored and frustrated airmen were arguing about which game to watch on TV. We looked around, pitied their predicament and walked back to our rooms to contemplate one of the finest, adrenaline-fueled Thanksgiving dinners so far in our young lives.
Freeman T. and the APs--fooled again!
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