THE STORY OF MY LIFE

Explanatory prelude

Pigalle = red light district in Paris.

Evreux = evroo = name of town where I was first stationed in France.

A-T-C = Air Training Command.

The last chance = they were closing the bases in France.

Laon = lay-own = the second base where I was stationed in France.

Love nuts = well...do I have to explain that?

One-forty one = a C-141 cargo plane. See picture.

Angeles City = city in the Philippines where I rested between missions during the Vietnam era.

Flew the last plane out = literally, was the flight engineer on the crew which officially flew the last combat plane out of Vietnam.

The Story of My Life

I joined the Air Force,
Then took a tech course.
Flew over to France,
And learned to slow dance.

I had low morale,
Was told: Go to Pigalle!
They said: Don’t dally,
Go to “Pig Alley!”

Took an old steam train,
To the bar, “Blue Train.”
Found a nice French gal,
She was no "pen-pal."

We discussed finance,
Then made hot romance.
A real nice honey,
But she stole my money!

Needed girls I knew,
So I went to Evreux.
The first girl I met
Was named Claudette.

She looked really nice,
But her heart was ice.
We got real chummy,
Then she stole my money!

Went back to the States.
By the strangest fates,
Assigned to tech schools,
To teach the young fools.

But in A-T-C
It wasn’t ecstacy.
I went back to France,
It was the last chance.

I flew over there
By the Military Air,
To my adopted home.
Was assigned to Laon.

But De Gaulle said, “Leave.”
I truly did grieve.
I sure loved that place,
They closed the Air Base.

Got orders to Britain,
So it was written.
I became a flyer,
In an RAF glider.

We were taught to soar,
By an English bore.
He taught me to fly,
Said, “Stay off the rye!”

The girls were all flirts,
In short mini-skirts.
They flaunted their butts,
And gave me “love nuts.”

Stole some hot kisses.
From a buddy’s missus.
But it wasn’t no life,
With ‘nother man’s wife.

And I also flew,
In the Air Rescue.
Maintained a chopper,
No airplane proper.

Came back real cool.
Went to a tech school.
Was a volunteer
To flight engineer.

A one-forty-one,
My new life begun.
Took the flight exam,
Flew in Vietnam.

We drew combat pay.
And I have to say,
That in Angeles City
The girls were all pretty.

The Air Medal won,
By flyin’ that run.
But I’m no Boy Scout.
I flew the last plane out.

I flew for Zantop,
In a big turboprop.
Don’t want to talk shop,
But Zantop went flop.

In the engineer’s chair
At American Trans Air.
From that seat I flew
The Boeing Seven-Two.

They called it ATA.
It too went away.
Then I had to find
Another airline.

Thus I learned to soar,
And fought in a war.
Flew for an airline
But had to resign.

Couldn’t get rehired,
So now I’m retired.
Not as good as I once was,
But as good once as I ever was.

****

Old flight engineers are like old truckers, they never die, they just get a new peterbilt.