Jerry Bumpus and Ralph Clemens, 1956
Ralph Clemens and Jerry Bumpus, 2016
Ralph led the group in recognition of the organizers of the reunion, as well as some classic Clemens one-liners. Bob Smith, Jim Devaney, and Joe Rogers made us all proud with how good pilots could march as they presented to colors for the Pledge of Allegiance. I was beside myself with honor when my Dad and Ralph requested that I give the evening Invocation. Angie and Katie were tasked with preparing the “Missing Man’s” table and Katie spoke to its significance. She and I were the only speakers who hadn’t graduated with 56-G. Don’t for one second think that was lost on me.
Ralph explained that the night would be about Remembrance. Remembrance of their deeds, and of those who were no longer with them. He gave toasts to the United States of America, then to their fallen comrades, and finally to the Class of 56-G itself. Then, we dined. I had been requested to sit at one of the tables up front to be closer to the podium. As that table started to fill with old friends who needed to be near each other, Angie and I happily repaired to what we termed, “The Kids Table”. We laughed and visited and had a great time over dinner and drinks with the Lukasik boys, as well as Brad McLennan, another 56-G son and former Air Force Pilot himself. We were the kids of the room and shared an interesting bond.
The sounds of laughter and dinner were broken intermittently through the night by the clinking of a wine glass. An old pilot would stand, and speak of one of their own who was no longer with us and a toast was raised to him. Cheers, indeed. The conversations would again commence, until the glass was clinked again. This went on and on. Clink after clink. Name after name. Story after story. Toast after toast.
The night was about remembrance, indeed.
Bob Titzer (Bad-Ass Bob, as they have often referred to him) gave the keynote remarks.
"Bad-Ass" Bob, 1956
56-G first started having reunions back in 2000. Bob Titzer initially came up with the idea. Bob’s Air Force career was very similar to Dad’s. Both found themselves in SAC, flying B-47s at Lincoln Air Force Base at Lincoln Nebraska. Though they were in different wings, they still stayed close. Bob left the service and became a successful engineer in Evansville, Indiana. Well, Bob made a few phone calls and gathered a few more numbers and before you knew it, the group found themselves in San Antonio rekindling friendships. I was able to attend one in 2002 in Dayton, Ohio at the US Air Force Museum. What a treat it was for me to be able to hear the stories of those great old planes straight from the mouths of the men who flew them.
That was 14 years ago. The reunions are getting fewer, and farther in between.
Bob’s remarks last night included some stats. There were nearly 400 young men that graduated as part of 56-G. They had endured the same rigorous training, designed to weed out those who were not prepared for the job that the Air Force needed them to do. They truly were exceptional. Then he mentioned how many the class lost in service. The numbers caused me to take a step back. In either training accidents or in combat, 56-G lost nearly one in five of its graduates. He then talked about how many have gone on since their active duty careers ended.
At the last reunion, nearly 50 members were in attendance. This year….. 12. Past reunions were chock full of activities. Dances, nights of song and presentations. Group excursions. This year, aside from an impromptu trip out to an airplane museum, the schedule was much more relaxed. The men of 56-G are aging, but they are far from elderly. In past years, grand discussions of airplanes and flying, temporary duty stations, and war stories ruled the conversation. This year, I noticed much more of the small, sidebar talks were about names. People who are no longer here. The reunion was not as much regaling past exploits as it was what Ralph described, about remembrance.
What I still saw, in each of those 12 faces though…was the spark of a 22-year-old boy. The recharged bond of shared experiences of adventure, excitement, duty, and yes, death. They were wild and fierce. They were the men the boys wanted to be and ones the girls wanted to be with.
Though they have been separated by years and miles, they still were and continue to be comrades. They are forever tied together.
Though we could still see it through our eyes, the gray hair is gone. No one walked with stooped back. Supplemental oxygen was replaced by high altitude mask. They were warriors and young. The fire to fly still burned within them. These old men could still, and God knows would still heed the call. Should an alert siren blow, they’d be the first to the flight line. They would still put “warheads on foreheads” in southeast Asia. They would still fly low and slow giving cover to the boys in the bush. They would still cross the arctic circle and do the unthinkable, because its who they are.
Their oath still stands.
During a late night conversation, a couple of years ago, Dad really opened up to me about his experiences as a bomber pilot in the height of the Cold War. His plane and crew had one job, to put a nuclear weapon on top of a city. He did not set the policy. He carried out the job. I’ll go deeper into that talk another day, but he left me with a poem that was something along the lines of,
“Beware old men of what you ask young men to do, for they just well might do it”.
Jerry Bumpus-Warrior, 1956
Alas, the aging squadron of 56-G will no more be called to duty. They were trained weapons, perfect machines. Their day has passed and their front line usefulness obsoleted by youth and technology. Yet, their mission was truly accomplished and as such, we are still free.
What these men did is part of history. Among the class of 56-G were the pilots who flew our POW’s home from Vietnam when they were released from the Hanoi Hilton. A man who flew the SR-71 (who just happened to sit next to dad at dinner last night and promised to drop by to see me when he visits family in Waverly, Tennessee), men who flew hundreds of sorties over Vietnam and Cambodia. Men like Bob Wikeen who when his F-86 had engine trouble over a populated area of New Jersey, elected not to bail out, but rather flew his broken bird over the ocean and to his death. Men like Bernie Lukasik….
Last night was also Bernie's birthday. You're damned right we sang for him.
These men saved the world. This world still needs saving. We all owe a them debt of gratitude. Those who are tasked with doing it today would do well to mimic these men, their spirit, their honor, and their accomplishments.
Men like Bill McDonald who did his time as an Army draftee during the Korean War, but still volunteered for the USAF and put in another 24 years in the cockpit.
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| Bill McDonald-1956 |
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| Bill McDonald, Final Flight-1979 |
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Bill McDonald, Vietnam-1968
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| Jerry Bumpus and Bill McDonald-2016 |
Bill McDonald is a hero. He kidded with me last night. He said, “If we don’t hurry up, we can have our next reunion around a card table”.
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Ralph Clemens-1956
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Ralph Clemens, Vietnam-1970
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Ralph Clemens-2016
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| Terry Crain (left) and Jerry Bumpus (right)-1956 |
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Terry Crain and Jerry Bumpus-2016
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I'm sitting here and thinking
Of the things I've left behind
And I have put down here on paper
What is running through my mind
We've marched a million miles or more
Look at our worn out feet
I know now that I should have joined
The lowly infantry
Our commandments were the Honor Code
The OTM our Bible
But a more unholy place than this
Would surely have no rival
And then there was the Tour-Path
That hated plot of ground
A fate worse than a weekend here
Is waiting to be found
The gigs were always plentiful
Some each day, as I recall
If demerit slips were dollars
I could buy the Taj Mahal
But there is one consolation
Gather closely while I tell
For when we die we'll go to heaven
For We've Done Our Hitch in Hell
The Girls were queens I must admit
There certainly were no bores
They came out every Friday night
And checked their brooms in at the door
We've flown in planes so ancient
That the Wrights would even scoff
The wings were held with braces
And patched all o'er with cloth
But when the final taps are blown
And we've laid aside lifes cares
We'll do our last parade
Upon those Shining Stairs
Our last Group Board will then be held
Outside St Peters Gates
Captain Trostle won't be there
For he has another fate
The Angels will all welcome us
And harps will start to play
We'll draw a million chit books
And spend them all one day
The Great Commanding Officer
Will smile on us and tell
Come, take the first seats, Gentlemen
For You've Done Your Hitch in Hell
God Bless the United States Air Force Pilot Training Class 56-G, both living and gone.
Ride Safe, and with Purpose.
Scott Bumpus
Proud son of Captain William Gerald Bumpus
United States Air Force
Pilot Training Class 56-G
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