At this juncture, it should be noted that once the second number was repeated, the effect progressed geometrically, gaining momentum much like that of a small snowball rolling down a hill, ultimately becoming an avalanche. As one might expect, this could pose some interesting and potentially delicate situations in military protocol. An example of one such incident occurred during the awards assembly of the 1973 Tactical Airlift Competition at Pope AFB. This was the first ever Competition wherein OCT participated in Team to Team Competition, rather than in support of their parent Airlift Wing. The Competition proved to be a rousing success with each of the participating Teams turning in excellent performances. In those days, an entire 12-man element with appropriate mix in grades had to compete. As it turned out, the surprise overall winner was the dark horse candidate, the infamous Langley Motorcycle Gang, (much to the chagrin of the Group Weenies (Editor's Note: a.k.a. 1st Aerial Port Group, Langley AFB, VA), who had hoped that their aberrant behavior and esprit de corps would be tempered by defeat). Upon hearing the announcement by the TAC Commander, one all too exuberant SSgt (see note) let loose the opening salvo of this proud battle cry. The chorus was immediately picked up by a third of the assembled CCTers, and gained full participation by the final number. The concluding crescendo rang through those hallowed halls with all of the bravado of our National Anthem!
The silence that followed was almost as poignant as the red faces of the Command Staff and the key note speakers. Truly a glorious moment!! The ensuing investigation proved futile as no one could trace the original provocateur, and when questioned, each NCO resorted to well rehearsed survival resistance procedures, requesting medical aid and complaining of disorientation from (d)ejection and subsequent capture.
It is not entirely clear when this noble practice began to fade from common use, however, its proud refrain may still be heard in the back rooms of seedy motels during reunions, or at any of Clyde and Kay's backyard gathering of Eagles in Florida, and whenever distinguished retired warriors gather at funerals to salute their fallen comrades. Perhaps it does not belong in the politically correct vernacular of today's articulate, clean-cut Operator, but somehow, I think a little of the color is gone, or maybe the spark is not as bright without this kind of dubious act. 'Til the next time, this is the way it really happened…………….. Ain't No Bullshit!
Note: Said SSgt is believed to be retired in the vicinity of FWB, FL. and selling autos under the initials of T.H.B. the Third. Yes, Tom, another vicious rumor based entirely upon facts... I was there.
Coin
Check - Official Rules
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World War I
During World War I, American volunteers from all parts of the country filled the newly formed flying squadrons. Some were wealthy scions attending colleges such as Yale and Harvard who quit in mid-term to join the war. In one squadron a wealthy lieutenant ordered medallions struck in solid bronze carrying the squadron emblem for every member of his squadron. He himself carried his medallion in small leather pouch around his neck.
Shortly after acquiring the medallions, the pilot's aircraft was severely damaged by ground fire. He was force to land behind enemy lines and was immediately captured by a German patrol. In order to discourage his escape, the Germans took all of his personal identification except for the small leather pouch around his neck. In the meantime, he was taken to a small French town near the front. Taking advantage of a bombardment that night, he escaped. However, he was without personal identification.
He succeeded in avoiding German patrols and reached the front lines. With great difficulty, he crossed no-man's land. Eventually, he stumbled onto a French outpost. Unfortunately, the French in this sector had been plagued by saboteurs. They sometimes masqueraded as civilians and wore civilian clothes. Not recognizing the young pilot's American accent, the French thought him a saboteur and made ready to execute him. Just in time, he remembered his leather pouch containing the medallion. He showed the medallion to his would-be executioners. His French captors recognized the squadron insignia on the medallion and delayed long enough for him to confirm his identity. Instead of shooting him, they gave him a bottle of wine.
Vietnam
Leisure time in Vietnam was a commodity, but when it came, it was utilized to the max; catching up on sleep; writing letters home; letting off steam at the hooch bar. The latter proved to the most popular, but eventually it too could become boring and mundane. To heighten excitement and foster unit esprit de corps, Bullet Clubs were formed. These were comprised of small, elite, front-line fighters who each carried a personalized bullet from the weapons they carried in combat. The ultimate use of the bullet, usually carried in the hip pocket, was to deny the enemy personal capture.
When an individual entered the Hooch Bar, he would be challenged by fellow team members to produce his bullet. If he did, the challenger would pay for his bar tab for the rest of the evening. If he failed to produce his bullet, he bought drinks for everyone for the remainder of the night. Eventually, personalized bullets took on disbelieving proportions. Some "teamies" took to carrying 20-, 40-, or 105mm cannon shells. Clearly, these were not personalized coup de grace munitions but rather manifestations of perceived individual prowess in combat or perhaps on R&R.
At the height of the Bullet Club's heyday, it was not an uncommon sight to see strewn across a bar room table a very respectable representation of the full range of bullets, rockets, cannon and artillery shells used in Southeast Asia. In order to gain control of the situation -- and to avoid accidental discharge of the large, fully functional munitions -- bullets were traded for coins, which reflected the unit's symbol and pride. Each coin was personalized by a controlled number and/or the individual's name. The rules remained the same, although today they are greatly expanded. Loss of one's coin was and remains tantamount to eternal disgrace and banishment. To forget to carry one's coin in anticipation of challenge results in a minor death.
Operation Desert Storm
Within days of his liberation from a prisoner of war camp, Sgt. Troy Dunlap received two Iraqi coins from an employee of the hotel where he and the other U.S. POWs were being housed by the Red Cross following their release. "One for you and one for me," he told Maj. Rhonda Cornum who also had been taken prisoner when their UH-60 helicopter was shot down by members of Saddam Hussein's Republican Guard during Operation Desert Storm. "We joked that we could use them like military coins. ... We planned how we would use the Iraqi money to 'coin' our friends when we got back to Fort Rucker," Cornum wrote in her book, "She Went to War."
"Coining" is a relatively new U.S. military tradition, but has roots in the Roman Empire, where coins were presented to reward achievements. In the U.S. military, the tradition goes back to the early 1960s. A member of the 11th Special Forces Group took old coins, had them over-stamped with a different emblem, then presented them to unit members, according to Roxanne Merritt, curator of the John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Museum at Fort Bragg, N.C.
A former commander of the 10th SFG picked up on the idea, becoming the first to mint a unit coin for a U.S. military unit. The 10th Group remained the only Army unit with its own coin until the mid-1980s, Merritt said, when "an explosion took place and everybody started minting coins." Originally, the coins, which bear the unit crest on the front and whatever design the unit wants on the back, were given out by commanders and sergeants major to recognize outstanding acts performed by soldiers in the course of duty.
"They're a real morale booster," said Duvall, "and tell the soldier, 'you're a member of our unit' which builds unit cohesion. The soldiers carry their credit card, driver's license and unit coin - their wallets are permanently deformed." Don Phillips, a former commander of the 20th SFG, designed a coin for his unit and presented it to his soldiers when he retired. "Another unit asked me to make a coin for them, and then another, so I went into business making them," said Phillips. To date, Phillips has made coins for "between 600 and 700 units." The tradition has spread to the other services and is even being adopted by paramilitary units like the U.S. Marshall's SWAT team, according to Phillips.
The proliferation of coins and their availability to the general public in post gift shops has caused Dr. Joseph Fisher, Special Operations Command historian, to view them as "not as special as they used to be; there are so many of them out there now." But that doesn't stop Fisher from carrying his with him at all times.
Making the coins available for purchase has added yet another dimension to the tradition - collecting. SMA Richard A. Kidd has approximately 300 of the coins on display in his office "museum." He has even issued an open invitation to soldiers visiting the Washington, D.C., area to stop by his office "even when I'm not here" to see his collection of unit memorabilia. According to Phillips, World War II soldiers were given a coin when they mustered out of the service.
But it wasn't until the Vietnam era that a "challenge-response" was added to the tradition of giving unit members a coin. The initial challenge was to prove membership in a particular unit by producing the unit coin.
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