HOSER

That zone five afterburner you heard earlier this month was Commander Joseph Frank Satrapa, USN (Ret) departing the pattern at age 78.  And if you don’t recognize the name, well, strap in tight, turn up the oxygen to 100 percent, and select Guns…

First, you should know that almost nobody called him “Joe.”  He was “Hoser” to at least two generations of naval aviators, and the reasons will soon be obvious.

Anyway: Hoser was appointed to the U.S. Naval Academy from California and graduated in 1964.  It was a point of perverse pride that he finished 926th among 927.

Not that it mattered. Hoser was uninterested in academics and Military Courtesy.  He was massively, completely, interested in flying, particularly flying fighters.

He got his wish.

The thing is: for all his contempt for conventional naval bearing, Hoser was a natural-born, charismatic, by-gawd Leader. Nobody taught him that—he carried it with him like his gravelly Yosemite Sam voice.

Upon receiving his wings of gold, Hoser got what he most wanted: F-8 Crusaders.  In the mid 1960s the ‘sader was a cult machine: the navy’s first supersonic aircraft, record-setting speedster (John Glenn flew one coast to coast in barely three hours) and fearsome dogfighter.  It was a melding of man and machine.  Hoser became an acknowledged master of fighter tactics and gunnery, and showed early talent for imparting his skill to others.

Hoser lived and breathed aerial gunnery.  He cadged extra flights whenever possible, developing an uncanny skill at shooting holes in towed banners.  On his first F-8 gunnery flight he enthusiastically “hosed” all his 20mm ammunition at the target in one pass.  A callsign was born.

In 1967 Hoser deployed to war with a detachment of the VF-111 Sundowners (of honored memory) aboard USS Intrepid.  One of his squadronmates, Tony Nargi, downed a North Vietnamese MiG on the next cruise, and the fact that Hoser never scored had absolutely nothing to do with him. It’s just that the MiGs seldom came out to play.

Hoser had the eminently bribable parachute riggers modify his torso harness to accept his personal arsenal: a Colt .357 magnum with 42 rounds of hollow-point ammo, a Smith & Wesson five-shot revolver with 20 rounds of tracer and hardball; a throwing knife; and two hand grenades.  (He traded some marines a couple of flight jackets for the latter.)  Plus an extra battery for his survival radio.  As Hoser explained, "Just because you're on the ground doesn't mean the fight's over.  You just change tactics."

Then the roof collapsed.  Hoser was one of a handful of experienced aviators pulled out of their beloved Crusaders into other aircraft to spread the knowledge. To say that Hoser went reluctantly would understate the situation—he went with the proverbial doorknob in each hand and skid marks on the deck.

However, comma: he got the next best thing.  North American’s sleek, super-fast RA-5C Vigilante was Navy Air’s primo reconnaissance aircraft.  A “Viggie” looked like it was doing 400 knots sitting in the chocks. The other thing that Viggies shared with Crusaders was an appalling safety record: they seemed to vie with one another for the highest accident rate in carrier aviation.

Flying from USS America in 1972, Hoser became a recce force to be reckoned with. Partnered with Lt(jg) Bob Rinder, as his recon navigator, Hoser recalled, “Seems like the gomers usually shot two or three thousand feet behind us ‘cause we were going at the speed of heat. How fast is that?  Well, that’s classified…except it’s really cookin’!  I got hit five times over the beach in F-8s—one aircraft was a ‘strike’ that couldn’t be repaired.  Only got a single hit in an RA-5C down at Chul Lai.”

That October Hoser and Rinder diverted from a Hanoi recon mission to look at Thanh Hoa Bridge, the most notorious target in Southeast Asia.  After the film was developed, there was proof—the “Dragon’s Jaw” was down in the river. The A-7 Corsair IIs of Attack Squadron 82 had done the deed.

At war’s end Hoser was a dead-end lieutenant commander in a navy determined to “rightsize.”  He was on the way out when he happened to meet a well-connected Navy Reserve officer named John Lehman.  As in, future Secretary of the Navy John Lehman.  According to legend, Satrapa called one night and there was that distinctive voice in the Lehman telephone: “SecNav?  Hoser.  I wanna come back.”

And he did, in a deal that’s been compared to the NFL draft.  With a very few other essential but unpromotable talents (including legendary landing signal officer John “Bug” Roach), Hoser returned to the fold, back in fighters where he belonged.  He transitioned to F-4 Phantoms but hit his stride with the next-generation F-14 Tomcat.

Hoser’s wealth of skill and knowledge, coupled with his inspirational teaching style, produced results.  (“Never forget—you’re here to kill the enemy.”)  But it wasn’t just tactics and gunnery—Hoser was a master of deceit.  When he humiliated an adversary pilot (with film showing Hoser’s sight on the opponent’s cockpit) he was accused of cheating.  To which Hoser famously replied, “Credibility is down.  Kill ratio is up!”

While at NAS Oceana, Virginia, Hoser built a single-shot 20mm rifle originally with home-made ammunition that shot 350 yards or more.  But later his invention blew up, severing his right thumb and index finger.  Now, you cannot fly “fighterjets” without a starboard thumb because it controls buttons and switches on the stick.  Not to worry: Hoser convinced a surgeon to remove his starboard big toe and place it on Hoser’s hand.  The doc worked his wonders, and viola!  Hoser was back—as “Toeser.”

The Hoser Legend continued growing.  The stories are legion, and regardless of how outrageous, probably most are true.  Here’s a sampling:

Allegedly Hoser went fishing in California with hand grenades, aka “DuPont spinners.”  Caught in the act, reputedly Hoser shoved a grenade in the game warden’s hand, pulled the pin, and asked (non-rhetorically) “You gonna fish or what?” More accurately, he used direct-contact “bang sticks” on grouper, successfully.

Another F-8 legend, the late Commander John Nichols, recalled another Hoser shooting tale.  During a Fallon, Nevada, gunnery detachment they were billeted in BOQ rooms with adjoining head.  Pirate heard something in there pretty dang early and opened the door--and nearly gagged.  Hoser had been out bird hunting and used the sink to clean the products of his shotgun excursion.

Then there’s the story of how Hoser grabbed a five-foot water moccasin threatening a friend’s two children.

Upon retiring from the navy, Hoser sought the next best thing and found it in his native California.  Flying modified Grumman S-2 antisubmarine planes, he reveled in delivering retardant upon forest fires.  

Long before his final retirement, the living legend treated himself to his own tombstone.  “Here rests the fighter pilot Hoser.  I lived life as I wanted, simple, honest, brave

And

I never landed gear up!”

Joseph “Hoser” Satrapa—a born warrior.  His kind has been bred out of the system, never to return.

YOU WON'T RISE TO THE OCCASION

For about 27 years my internet tagline has been “You won’t rise to the occasion—you will default to your level of training.”  Recently some readers or colleagues have asked about the origin of the motto, which has been widely quoted, and sometimes misattributed.

Here’s the lowdown:

In 1992 my brother and I published The Sixth Battle from Bantam, a complex, multi-layered techno-thriller set in South Africa and the Indian Ocean.  At sea, it pitted a U.S. Navy carrier group against post-Soviet Russian forces deploying carriers and amphibious units.  The scenario quickly caught the attention of wargamers, and occasionally I still hear from those folks.

One of the major players in the novel is the fictional Fighter Squadron 181 flying F-14 Tomcats from the fictional Forrestal class carrier USS Langley.  In one scene VF-181’s leading light, Lieutenant Commander Ozzie Ostrewski (“the world’s greatest Polish fighter pilot”) ponders the informal squadron doctrine on the bulkhead:

VF-181 Lessons to Live By

1.    You can only do what you can do.

2.    You won’t rise to the occasion—you will default to your level of training.

3.    There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

4.    A little subtle keying helps on radio calls.

5.    At 90 degrees of bank the lift slides off the wings.

6.    Use the sun but remember everyone else is there.

7.    Be King Kong on radar and have King Kong eyes.

8.    When the BBs are flying it’s time for your last best move.

9.    Think big—think basics—and cheat like hell.
10.  When planning a fight, see Rule Number One.

Number Two became the most-cited of the “ten commandments” and caught on as soon as I began citing it online.  I remembered several of the quotes from visiting Topgun and “Strike U” spaces at NAS Miramar, California, and NAS Fallon, Nevada, but added a couple from elsewhere.  Number Nine was cited at a 1980s Tailhook banquet by the late Vice Admiral Jim Stockdale of honored memory.

Time passed. Eventually other operators began picking up the “rise to the occasion” mantra, applying it in other venues such as elite forces and a Midwest fire department.  The online search turned up a Special Forces (Green Beret) manual that attributes the quote to me in what I will call soldierly terms: “WTSHTF (you can look it up) you will not rise to the occasion…”  But I do appreciate the credit line just the same!

Some outlets requested permission to quote me and some did not.  I always granted a request when asked because I reckoned that I do not hold a copyright on the quote, but I merely asked proper attribution.

Since then, the quote has been claimed by or attributed to others, including retired military officers and civilian firearms and martial arts trainers.  The other day I ran a Google search and found some of those usurpers with as few as eight hits and as many as 140.  My count runs somewhere north of 7,700.

However, with my curiosity aroused, I sought additional leads.  Internet discussions often cite an ancient Greek poet named Archilochus, without many specifics.  Allegedly he wrote, “We don’t rise to the level of our expectations, we fall to the level of our training.”

I’d never heard of Archilochus, and little is known about him, other than reputedly he was KIA fighting the Thasians or Naxos in the VII century BC.  The similarity between Archiolochus’ alleged version and “mine” is obvious.  But since the link between the poet and the statement seems tenuous, we’re back to the XX century.

Yet there are other examples across time.  In the IV or V Century AD the Roman military writer Publius Flavius Vegetius said, “Si vis pacem, para bellum.”  The translation: “He who desires peace should prepare for war.”  

The U.S. Marine Corps version runs, “The more you sweat in peace the less you bleed in war.”

Vegetius’ oft-cited statement can be interpreted in a broader sense, essentially “Peace through strength.”  It has much to do with deterrence, certainly well understood by the ultimate Cold Warrior, General Curtis LeMay.  His Strategic Air Command emblazoned its nuclear-armed bombers with the motto, “Peace is our profession.”

The subject of training for conflict is of course broad and deep, spanning an immense ocean of material compiled over millennia.  There are many levels of training, and thus many default levels.  Though I would never claim that my quotation is definitive, it has gained considerable notice in three decades.  If it prompts practitioners and operators to discuss the subject, that’s as much as I can expect. 

Stay vigilant, stay informed, and stay well trained.

PERSPECTIVE ON "THE GREATEST GENERATION"

I’m starting the new year with a lingering question I’ve wanted to ask reporter Tom Brokaw for decades. (Well, OK, two questions starting with why he didn't attend Joe Foss' memorial service, considering what Joe did for him for decades.)

Actually, I did post that question on Brokaw’s Facebook page but never got the courtesy of a response.

The burr beneath the proverbial saddle is Brokaw’s 1998 best seller, The Greatest Generation.  In the past twenty years the phrase has become so ingrained in the national psyche that it’s used reflexively, as in “an involuntary and nearly instantaneous movement in response to a stimulus.”  That’s one of the dictionary definitions, and it fits “TGG” perfectly.

Anytime the World War II generation of Americans is referenced, you can set your calendar by the certainty of a TGG comment.  More often than not, it seems to come from people who are too young to have grown up around “War Two” veterans, which might make the situation even worse. Absent any depth of knowledge of the era, let alone the wider panorama of American history, the knee-jerk reaction is unlikely to be modified.

But to return to the main point:

Does Tom Brokaw REALLY believe The Greatest Generation hype?

It's totally unsupportable.  In fact, Joe often said, "We weren't the greatest--we just did what we had to do.”

More recently, Dutch Van Kirk, who dropped the Hiroshima atomic bomb that hastened the end of World War II, expressed an identical sentiment.

Meanwhile, I can count on one hand the number of  U.S. World War II vets who bought into TGG puffery, with fingers left over.

Some highly competent historians have weighed in, noting that in 1940-42 the world appeared teetering on the verge of Axis victory as Germany, Japan, and even Italy swept from one triumph to another.  But the trend abruptly reversed in ’42 with strategic Allied victories at Midway in the Pacific in June and at El Alamein in North Africa during October-November.  Furthermore, the German debacle at Stalingrad overlapped five months in 1942-43.  By then, the first U.S. offensive of the war, at Guadalcanal in the Solomon Islands, approached its climax, forever ending Japanese prospects for the strategic offensive.

However grim things might have appeared at the time, with just a bit of perspective the reality is clear.  The Second World War was not going to be won by anyone except the Allies.  It says more of the military ability of the Axis that basically three nations (and Italy was on both sides!) tied the rest of the world in knots for six years.  Maybe that wasn't as evident early on, but astute Germans recognized the facts.  I knew the former Luftwaffe fighter chief, General Adolf Galland, who said that the war was lost when Hitler attacked Russia, let alone when he declared war on America six months later.

Briefly:

Depending on the timeframe, the Axis was outnumbered between 5 and 6-1 for most of the war. (The British Empire, Russia and China ferpetesake!)  By the time the Latin American piling-on ended in ’45, the disparity was more like 8-1.

Moreover, the Axis was out-produced by something approaching infinity.  Just two examples: the U.S. built 34 million tons of merchant shipping; Japan produced barely 4 million.  America rolled out more than 30,000 multi-engine bombers; Germany not quite 1,200.

The Axis had no way to conquer America--Germany and Japan couldn't even get here, even assuming adequate numbers.  Yet assuming Axis conquests over all of Europe and the Asia-Pacific region, for Germany, Japan and their acolytes (such as Bulgaria and Thailand), occupying such a huge portion of Earth’s surface would have spread the fascists far too thin.  They simply could not have conquered “Fortress Amerika.”

Yet some analysts conclude that the U.S. would have been forced into economic servitude to the Axis, without access to foreign markets.

That dog don’t hunt.  For comparison, remember that the U.S. not only dealt with an existential threat for fifty years, but continued supporting the Soviet Union with vital sales—not least of which was food.  As a former wheat rancher, I can say that although our Pacific Northwest product went to Asian markets, much Midwest grain went to Russia, which managed to bungle the Ukrainian bread basket for decades.

Therefore, while facing the potential for thermonuclear incineration, old Uncle Sam propped up his bitterest enemy at the same time.  (One is reminded of the Marxist mantra: capitalists would sell the hangman the rope he would use on them.)

What we should remember, however, is that the War Two generation of Americans helped return dozens of countries to their rightful owners.  That fact is too often ignored.

So, to conclude: Who was the greatest generation?

It's absurd that anybody still argues the point.

IT WAS THE FOUNDERSwho, as Benjamin Franklin said in the delightful musical 1776, the nascent Republic overcame far greater odds than a kinder Providence would have ordained.  The colonies fought an eight-year war against the greatest empire on Earth, with the leaders facing the gallows if they failed.  Although we owe a tremendous debt to France (repaid at least twice), World War II doesn't even belong on the same page as the Revolution.

After that, TGG was the pioneers who trekked the Oregon Trail.  Long ago I transcribed my maternal great-great grandmother's 1852 journal.  She and thousands of others set out from Missourah walking 2,100 miles in a five-month race to beat winter in time to establish quarters in the Willamette Valley.

As frontier scout Kit Carson allegedly said, "The cowards never started and the weak died on the way."

Those people had HEART.

Before closing, I’d like to put in a word for my grandparents’ generation. Those were the Americans who dealt with The Great Depression as adults, and raised the World War II crop.

Anyone with the right contacts, feel free to copy to Mr. Brokaw.