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You are here: Home / Archives for Personal Commentary

Personal Commentary

I Was an Idiot!!!

August 21, 2014 By Lynne

Lynne Scott will not be writing any reviews for posting on other sites. I’m not very good at it. I wrote one earlier this week and I’m not very proud of myself now. We all make mistakes – I made one, and I’ve corrected it. Now I’d like my readers and fellow authors to learn from my mistake.

The book warranted a solid positive four-star review – great plot, great characters, well done cop-speak dialog. It had some issues in POV and style that occasionally took me out of the story, but nothing to knock it below the four stars. It was a good debut novel, and I have no doubt the author’s next one will be even better.

Even though I gave it the four star review, I somehow managed to write only one paragraph about all the great stuff while wasting several on the minor problems with the book. What I should have done was the reverse. Mention the problems, and then talk about all the good things the author did. If I had to detail the problems, it should have been done in an email to the author. The author deserved a better write up.

Why didn’t I do that? Because sometimes I’m just an idiot.
The review was up about twelve hours before my brain engaged and I removed it.

We need to have some honest conversations concerning reviews – reader versus author? Can we do that? Maybe, but it’s not going to be easy and it will take more than one post.

I wear both hats on any given day. I write almost every day, but I still love to read. When it comes to reviews, what I want as a reader shouldn’t be too awfully different than what I want as an author.

What I WANT to see in a review as a READER –
1. Honesty. Don’t inflate the review. “Good book, good read!” means more to me as a reader than a whole bunch of empty 5 star reviews. Not every book is a 5. I enjoy the 4s just as much in most cases because I’m not looking to be wowed only to be disappointed.
2. Brevity. Just tell me what you liked and move on. I don’t need a 3 paragraph recap of the damn story. I want to read the story for myself. A couple short paragraphs is about the limit of my “give a crap” when I’m shopping so just say what you have to say.
3. A recommendation/non-recommendation for this and the next book. “I can’t wait for the next book” or “I’ll spend money on this author again” are things that say this is worth my money.

What I WANT to see in a review as an AUTHOR –
1. Honesty – Yeah right. As long as it’s the good kind. Otherwise I’d like you to practice what your mommy taught you, “If you have nothing good to say, say nothing.” Or at least not publicly. (I should have listened to my own rules earlier this week.)
2. An indication of what worked. – It doesn’t have to be a big deal. If you liked the humor or the banter, just say it worked; you don’t have to provide an example.

What I DON’T WANT to see in a review as a READER –
1. Claimed relationship Wife/Bestie reviews – “Buy my husband’s/sister’s/friend’s book. He worked hard.” This is an automatic killer for me. I don’t mind if you know the author, but write like you don’t and include something useful about the book not your relationship.
2. Spoilers without warning. Telling us who the killer is, how the book ended, or discussing plot twists without warning proves the writer of the review is a complete and total ASSHAT. I have been known to reply to those reviews and tell them they are an idiot (foul language can get you banned. Yes, it’s hard for me to express myself properly without expletives but I have to make do.). I generally follow that up with a note to Amazon.

What I DON’T WANT to see in a review as an AUTHOR –
1. Personal criticism – Attack the work, not the author. The difference: “This is s***!” is about the book. “Joe Blow is s***!” is about the author. Don’t do that. It’s rude.
2. A headline that turns off the review – I saw one recently in which the reviewer gave the author four stars, but the title was “MEH… “ Do you need to read more? I did because I was curious how MEH equaled four stars. It still wasn’t clear from the review.
3. All the same things that I don’t want to see as a reader.

One of my favorite reviews seen on another author’s book on a long gone website was, “Suspense and quirkiness. Solid read. I’ll buy again.” I bought the book based on the 4 out of 5 star review. Sadly, I can’t remember the name of the book or the author anymore. I’m sure it’ll come to me about 0330 tomorrow morning.

So, how am I going to let you know that I liked a book by someone else? I’ll put them in my blog and I’ll send a note to the author that I did so. Nothing big, nothing fancy. No more than “A good book, a solid read.” Just the book description and the cover, and maybe something about the author and where you can find the book.

If it appears on my blog, I read it, I liked it, and I would have given it a 4 star or better review. I won’t post a book with a link that I haven’t read and wouldn’t spend my money on.

In my next post, I’ll talk more about the idea of author’s trading reviews and the even uglier practice of author’s using secondary accounts and names to review themselves.

Filed Under: Personal Commentary, Writing

No Guts – No Glory – No New .45

July 30, 2014 By Lynne

As I prepare to release Vapor Point, I find myself stuck between a rock and hard spot. Amazon is offering a great new program that might help an independent author like me get noticed and perhaps be read by people who may not otherwise see my books or know of my existence. The new Kindle Unlimited program is part of KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) Select – the author side of Amazon Prime.

With the original Prime membership, a reader could “borrow” a free book each month. As an Indie, I didn’t get too excited about this. Let’s face it, who’s going to borrow a $4.99 book by an unknown author like me when you can download your favorite established author’s new $12.99 book at no charge. While I would love to say that I’m all about trying the new guy for free, it’s simply not true. I’m just like everyone else – I’m looking for the best deal for my money.

However, with the new program there will be no limit on the number of books that can be borrowed by a program member. This means you won’t be forced to choose between the new Michael Connelly thriller and my latest release – you can have both for your membership fee. Download and read any book past the 10% point – a little farther then the free preview – and the author gets paid. A sweet deal for the reader and the author.

Here’s the rub – an author must make Amazon the exclusive digital (ebook) distributor for the book for as long as it’s enrolled in the program. The enrollment period is in 90-day increments. Here’s how Amazon explains this:

What does it mean to publish exclusively on Kindle?
When you choose to enroll your book in KDP Select, you’re committing to make the digital format of that book available exclusively through KDP. During the period of exclusivity, you cannot distribute your book digitally anywhere else, including on your website, blogs, etc. However, you can continue to distribute your book in physical format, or in any format other than digital.

So if I want in, I can’t sell an epub file for a Nook, Kobo, or Sony reader – those folks get their digital books through Barnes and Noble.

Realistically, 98% of my (not so many to begin with) book sales are through Amazon. I’m not bothered by a retail exclusive clause that doesn’t allow me to sell digitally through Barnes and Noble for the 90-day period, but I don’t like that I can’t distribute to my readers through my own website. Do I understand why Amazon requires this exclusivity? Of course – we all do. If you want to drive Barnes and Noble’s digital trade into the ground, then you have to cut off the supply to the other devices. And the way to do that is through incentives to the publishers. In this case me.

What makes it a painful decision is that a lot of my personal friends have Nooks and Kobos. I take pride in being a loyal friend. But financially… it would be silly not to try this program.

I didn’t load the digital version of Blood Link Book V – The Healer to Barnes and Noble when it was released in December. That decision had nothing to do with the KDP program. At the time, it was a decision based on the hassle of working with Barnes and Noble. They were making some internal changes to their self-publishing program and loading or adjusting books was a giant horking pain in the butt. I chose to hold off loading the book in hope they’d resolve some of their technical issues. I never did get around to loading the book. The mail from Blood Link fans with Nooks or Kobos was minimal. I took care of those few folks independently utilizing PayPal. But based on the exclusivity agreement – I won’t be able to do that if I opt into the new system.

I think it’s important to point out that this doesn’t mean that the folks who don’t own a Kindle are without options. Anyone can read a Kindle formatted book on a phone, tablet, laptop, or desktop without buying a Kindle reader. The applications are completely FREE through Amazon. I’ve embedded the link to the applications page for you here. This was how I read the Kindle version of my books for the first year I was published. Now I own an inexpensive Kindle as well as a Nook so I can read in either format.

I’ve been at this for a couple years now, and if you’ve spent any time following along, you know that I’m terrible at self-promotion. That hasn’t stopped me from stumbling around and trying new things. I still have a lot of questions about this program:
Will this help me be seen and become established?
Will I sell more books/make more money?
What will it cost me in terms of readership?
Will I go from a faithful ten readers down to a faithful eight?
Do I enroll one book or all my books?

I don’t know the answers yet. But I do know that if I don’t sell enough books to cover the costs of editing, producing covers, and my website, then I’m not going to be able to afford to continue publishing, much less ever afford a vacation, a boy toy, or a new .45 and the ammo to put through it. You all knew that I’d come back to the weapon didn’t you?

Based on where I am and looking at where I would like to be, I’m going to give the program a try. And just for the record, I threw the boy toy in as a distraction in hopes that Mr. Scott wouldn’t notice the part about a new .45. Ssshhhhhhhhh!!!

Filed Under: Personal Commentary, Writing

For my Brothers and Sisters

July 20, 2014 By Lynne

As you know, I have many brothers and sisters that I’m related to by choice and profession. As a group, we talk a lot about being there for each other, both downrange and at home. We’re known to make those solemn pledges to never leave one of our brothers or squad mates behind. We pledge our lives to each other because sometimes each other is all that we have. We wouldn’t leave a brother behind in battle.

However, we are also the WORST group at admitting we need help or asking for it. We suck at sharing our personal pain. It’s not in our nature to show our weaknesses. We aren’t interested in making our emotional trauma a subject of discussion. And in most cases if you challenge us on these issues, we’ll tell you that we’re fine, and, oh by the way, you should fuck off now. I know these things because I am part of that group.

What WE are all willing to do is be the one who says, “Don’t quit, brother. I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

But then what? Who’ll be there for the long haul, fellas? How do you make a man who used to outrun, out ruck, and out gun everyone in the unit see beyond his past and embrace a future that’s different? A life where fast isn’t an option. A life where endurance is measured by getting through the day not a 20 mile ruck. A type of life that’s the antithesis of how any one of us ever perceived ourselves.

The only thing I can think of is that we have to be there. We can’t count on “a system” to solve these things for us. We didn’t when we were active duty, and we sure as hell can’t now. Most of us can count on one hand the number of our fellow warriors who would ever voluntarily go to a mental health counselor. We weren’t giving up our careers or our weapons. We were bred to perceive asking for that type of help as tantamount to ending our careers. But as NCOs, it was our job to care for and protect our people. We were there for them. Good or bad. It wasn’t just our responsibility as professional warriors — it was our calling.

We spent most of our careers telling each other that WE were the best fighting force in the world. That WE were the best NCOs. We were the finest warriors and, sure as hell, WE weren’t just the meanest sons-a-bitches in the valley — WE were also the smartest fuckers that walked the face of the Earth.

Our leadership mantra was “Take care of the people and they’ll take care of the mission.”

The mission isn’t going downrange anymore, people. The mission is right here at home. So if you know of a brother or sister who’s struggling, get off your ass and reach out. Don’t let them push you away. You didn’t let your troop do it when you were in uniform, don’t let them do it now.

And, all you beautiful bastards who’re struggling with something ugly, listen up. Maybe your life isn’t what it used to be. Maybe you’ve fucked yourself up by booze, dope, or just living too large and too dark for too long. Maybe you don’t think you deserve the hand your brother is sticking out there for you to grab. Maybe you just plain don’t want to take it, because you ain’t “that guy.” And maybe some days it is just all too fucking much. But the simple truth is that the world will not be a better place without you. Pull your head out of your ass and think back to all the times we saw this kind of ugly shit go down. WE all hated the pain it caused the family. We all questioned how someone could do that to his wife and children. And WE ALL bore that loss as only chosen family can.

YOU were part of that WE. YOU still are. YOU are not a burden to your family or your brothers in arms.

There isn’t a one of us that doesn’t bear the scars of the life we’ve chosen. Some are visible, some aren’t. But we are left with making a choice now. We can either make all the pain and ugly shit in our life an excuse to stay in the suck, or we can make it a reason to move forward.

Sometimes all anyone needs is to be given a reason and to be asked to try. So here it is, brother. Please don’t do this to the people who love you. I’ve seen too many not to know how this works. I’ve held a boy when he breathed his last, I’ve walked into the scenes, I’ve notified the families, and I’m stuck with that ugly and horrifying shit in my head forever. For you it may be over, but for the rest of us it’s only the beginning. You are condemning your family to a lifetime of fucked up memories and pain. You say you don’t want the shit you have stuck in your head, well what do you think your loss will do to your wife and kids. Ruck up, brother, and fight one more day. You swore you’d never quit in the field, don’t fucking quit now!

For anyone who needs help, I’m here. For anyone who wants to help – just reach out to your brothers and sisters. Let’s take care of our people.

Filed Under: Personal Commentary, Uncategorized

The Predictability of Lynne Scott

May 9, 2014 By Lynne

I took a little time off. Call it a voyage of self-discovery. Hell, call it what it was – a reality check.

The simple truth is that I doubted myself. I know… it’s shocking, but there you have it. I too have doubts. I let one person’s opinion matter more than others. Not that I should have discounted it, the opinion was valid and deserved consideration. Someone had to have the courage to tell me what they thought even if I didn’t want to hear it. But I took it to heart and let it eat at me when I should have just accepted it for what it was and moved on.

Here’s what happened.

I sent out several chapters of a work in progress and asked a few of my favorite betas to read it. My only question was: Does this have legs? I wanted to know if they felt like the story had potential or if I’d gone too broad on the topic. Five out of the six betas liked it. They pointed out a few issues that I would need to address if I was going to make it work, but they liked the premise.

The sixth beta – not so much. He told me that it was “fine,” but he didn’t feel an urge to read more. He already knew that my gal would kick butt and take names. He told me I was “predictable.”

As we all know, it wasn’t personal. It was honest and damn important feedback. I just couldn’t see it for a little while; nor could I accept that there was nothing wrong with being “predictable.” It took a bunch of conversations with other authors and readers to understand that it’s not only okay to be predictable in some ways – it’s important.

If you read certain authors, you know what you’re getting each time. It’s why you buy and read their books.

A Harlequin romance will always be feisty girl meets hot guy, they connect, sex, misunderstanding, sex, misunderstanding, and happy-ending. Women buy them because they know exactly what they are getting and it’s what they want. They don’t want real life, they want the fantasy of what a romance novel offers.

Everyone picks authors based on their likes and the predictability of those authors. You read Dean Koontz and Stephen King because you want the crap scared out of you. You read Michael Connelly because you love Harry Bosch and you like cop novels. You read John Sanford’s Prey series because you like psychos and cops. You read Russell Blake because they’re fast paced and fun.

My ten faithful readers buy my books because they like what I give them.

I write books about strong women who generally have some type of problem to overcome. They often have a military or law enforcement background because these are the people most likely to be put in the positions I want them put in. The books are action, adventure, and suspense with a healthy dose of non-gratuitous sex connected to a non-sappy love story.

My heroines are sometimes the damsel in distress, but they are never completely helpless and they are never, ever, drama f***ing queens. They’re independent, resilient, resourceful, and in most cases, willing and able to fight back. They are also tender-hearted, love dogs, want to find love, and almost all of them are flawed in some way. Life, their jobs, wars, discrimination, and crazy people may have battered them, but all of them will attempt to stand on their own two feet. And all of them just want the love of someone who accepts them for who and what they are.

My heroes are almost always the doers of the world. Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines, and cops. Who wants a hero who has no idea what to do when the s*** hits the fan? They’re often men who’ve seen a little too much of the dark side of the world, but they aren’t afraid of confrontation, and they don’t suffer fools. This is rarely the first rodeo for these guys.

And, my people are not “youngsters.” I prefer them to be in the mid-thirties or early forties. I get tired of perky and inexperienced. Give me someone with some life experience who’s made mistakes and knows what they want in a job, a relationship, and in life.

So, yeah. I am predictable. I write what I like to read. Each one is better than the last one. And each one will leave you satisfied.

This is my niche.

Filed Under: Personal Commentary, Writing

Buddy, can you spare a phone call!

December 15, 2013 By Lynne

In 1932, desperate and hungry, about 17,000 World War I veterans converged on Washington D.C. to demand a promised cash bonus be paid early. The World War Adjusted Compensation Act of 1924 had awarded them each a bonus certificate they could redeem in 1945. With interest, the value would be about $1000. But the veterans needed the promised money then, not later. After the 1931 veto of the Patman Veteran’s Bill, most veterans had given up hope of getting their bonus certificates cashed out.
waters300
Former Army sergeant Walter W. Waters wasn’t one of them. Waters figured the way to get something done was by lobbying. He also believed that the veterans had to be in the capital to be heard. Waters gathered and led a group of 300 Oregonian veterans to Washington. The group left Oregon on 11 March 1932 and made their way across country by the cheapest way possible – riding the rails, hitchhiking, and walking. Calling themselves the Bonus Expeditionary Force” (BEF) after the American Expeditionary Force they’d been a part of in France, the group arrived in Washington D.C. on 29 May. Thousands more veterans having heard about them on the news were waiting for them. Their numbers swelled to 17,000.
bonus_march3-cf4715c3a1195a1e35a71e4163d61f5e1ef2c9b8-s6-c30

Scan10018My grandfather, Harry Walker, was one of those 17,000. Out of work and worried about how he was to care for his family, he left his wife and two children in Philadelphia, and made the trip to Washington D.C. in hopes of getting the government to cash the certificates.

Waters called for the men to set up a camp and organized it with the same guidelines the Army utilized. The men listened to him when he informed them that to be a part of the camp they needed to register and provide proof they were veterans, and that there was to be no drinking, gambling, or communist conspiring inside the camp. They were there to demonstrate in an orderly manner that befit their status as former soldiers, sign petitions requesting relief, and to lobby Congress on behalf of themselves and their fellow veterans. They proceeded to do just that. World War I vets were only part of the more than 40,000 people who converged on the capital that summer demanding relief, but the news focused on the Bonus Army and their efforts.
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My grandfather told my mother that it was orderly and peaceful for the most part. They just wanted their elected representatives to help them out by giving them what had been promised to them.

On 15 June, the House of Representatives did listen to the veterans and they passed the Wright Patman Bonus Bill that would have allowed the vets to receive their cash bonuses.

However, on 17 June, the Senate flatly rejected that bill. ImageImage - CopyScan1 - Copy (2)Image0001
(The above post cards came from my grandmother’s album – notice on the last card that the inked stamp only says World War.)

bonus-army-veterans-from-california-bed-everettDefeated, a great number of the veterans decamped and returned home. However, several thousand veterans with their families remained in Washington D.C. to continue lobbying Congress. Most of them didn’t leave because they had no homes to go to and no money to travel with. While the Bonus Army continued to conduct itself with decorum, they weren’t the only ones encamped in the Capitol. Many thousand others were still encamped in shantytowns and tents right across from the White House and in front of the capital building.

Supposedly concerned that the large group was a threat to national security, Attorney General William D. Mitchell ordered the Washington police to clear the squatters from the camps and the city. Before that foray was over, two veterans had been killed.
bonus_march2
President Herbert Hoover ordered the Army to secure the city. General Douglas MacArthur, using the 12th Infantry Regiment, the 3rd Cavalry Regiment, and 6 battle tanks commanded by Major George Patton, sent his forces to push the squatters and their families out of the capital.

Patton formed the cavalry on Pennsylvania Avenue and in a move that shocked everyone, ordered the cavalry to charge. bonusarmyattackforcebatk-300x217
That’s right. General Douglas MacArthur and Major George S. Patten led a cavalry charge against unarmed fellow Americans and their former brothers in arms who had peacefully assembled in our nation’s capital.

The remaining veterans and their families, most of whom had been cheering the appearance of the Army believing they were there to protect them from the police, were forced to flee for their lives across the Anacostia River to the large camp on the Flats. Hoover ordered a halt to the charge; however, MacArthur ignored him and led the infantry with fixed bayonets and tear gas in pursuit of the fleeing masses of men, women and children. 55 veterans were injured, 135 arrested, one veteran’s wife miscarried, and a 12 week old child died after being caught in a tear gas cloud. MacArthur’s men then burned the camp to the ground effectively ending the Bonus Army’s encampment on the Anacostia Flats.
t1larg.bonus.army.giaa_patton_bonus_3_ebonus_march4_wide-f6d6733badd0707e6da39936fbeb90d84b1de32a-s6-c30

My grandfather called it a despicable act and a gross violation of their First Amendment Right to peaceful assembly. He hated Douglas MacArthur until the day he died.

The nation was also incensed at the treatment of the veterans, but their anger didn’t change the minds of the House or the Senate. However, when the election came around in November, the voters remembered and Herbert Hoover, as well as a good number of other incumbents, was not returned to office.
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The veteran’s didn’t receive their payment until 1936 when the House and Senate voted to pass the Adjusted Compensation Payment Act successfully overriding President Franklin Roosevelt’s previous veto of the bill. It’s not until Roosevelt signs the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944 (known as the G.I. Bill) that veteran’s rights are secured.

Or so we thought.

Why tell you this story? Because just this week, our elected representatives decided that the retired veterans of this country don’t need to be treated with the respect they’ve earned.

“Annual adjustment of retired pay and retainer pay amounts for retired members of the Armed Forces under age 62:
This provision modifies the annual cost-of-living adjustment for working-age military retirees by making the adjustments equal to inflation minus one percent. This change would be gradually phased in, with no change for the current year, a 0.25 percent decrease in December 2014, and a 0.5 percent decrease in December 2015. This would not affect service members who retired because of disability or injury. Service members would never see a reduction in benefits from one year to the next.”

Really? So a future 1.3% COLA for all federal retirees will only a 0.3% COLA for veterans – just the military retirees. Once again, all federal pigs aren’t equal in the eyes of the federal government.

Now keep in mind that for those of us who stuck around for all those years so we could retire – we were always promised that we’d have medical and dental for the rest of our lives. Yes, we were told that. Yes, we all believed it. No, we didn’t get it in writing. Yes, we were stupid!

But would it have mattered if we did get it in writing? Perhaps we should ask the Native Americans what a written promise by our government is worth.

The base hospitals are closing and becoming clinics with reduced medical staffs so they no longer treat retirees. Retirees are now forced to pay for TRICARE. Yes, I’m aware that it’s vastly cheaper than most civilian insurances, but that’s not the point – it’s not what we were told that we could expect if we stayed when everyone else left for decent paying jobs. There is no dental care – we’re forced to pay for a dental plan just like everyone else. Now the Department of Defense is talking about closing the base commissary system (the grocery store). I’m not sure how the young families will survive if they do that, much less the retirees who live near those installations and depend on them.

Silly us, we believed that our government would respect the people who enforced all those treaties and policies, furthered our national interests, and of course protected our national security. Remember us? We’re the ones who worked for less than we were worth because we believed in the greater good of our nation. We’re the ones who got spit on and derided for doing what our nation asked us to do. We’re the cold war warriors who can’t even get the same disability considerations because we sat in silos instead of serving in a sandbox. We’re the men and women who worked weekends, holidays, and anytime we were told to because that was the commitment. Silly us, we believed that our government would honor its word to us with the same honesty and dedication that we honored our commitment to the nation. Funny how their service is so much more important and worthy than those of us who ensure their place in the system.

Well, don’t we all feel as appreciated as a used freaking piece of toilet paper now?

What can be done?

#1. If every veteran took just five minutes out of their day to contact their elected representatives to express their discontent (don’t worry, they won’t call you back) then we could clog the phone lines and annoy the snot out of them. Phone, email, write a letter, or show up at their damn office!

#2. If everyone non-veteran who’s claimed to appreciate and love us veterans joined in, then perhaps our government just might pay attention.

#3. Share the news of what’s being done. Most people have no idea. They’re just excited that someone’s trying to pass a budget. This one needs to fail in the Senate or be vetoed by the president.

Finally. As elections roll around – we can vote every one of those useless SOBs out. They’ll still have their juicy retirement, but we’ll feel better for doing it.

As for who would be willing to go to Washington? I’d go! My grandfather went – can I do anything less than he was willing to do? How about if we all go. There’s enough of us to cause one hell of a traffic jam and become an annoyance to their lives.

At least until they send in someone to run us the hell out of town. And would they? You bet your ass they would!

Sadly, I doubt there would be anyone in the hallowed halls of our capital building to listen. Have you noticed the timing? Pass something and then go home on Christmas break. And, even if they were there, would any of them give a damn that we showed up. Our elected representatives’ heads are simply too far up their collective asses to listen to anyone but a guy who can tap them on their butt with money in his hands.

I’ve got no money to be tapping with and I’ll sure as hell have less now.

For help in contacting your elected representatives by email visit http://capwiz.com/moaa/issues/alert/?alertid=63028561&PROCESS=Take+Action
It only takes a minute to fill out the form and send it. Thanks for your help.

All the sepia tone photos are mine. All other photos were blatantly stolen from the Internet in a gross violation of someone’s copyright. Please feel free to have me arrested and sent to federal prison where I can get 3 hots and a cot along with some much needed dental care that I can’t afford on my retirement.

Filed Under: Personal Commentary

One of the Most Dangerous Jobs in the Air Force

November 10, 2013 By Lynne

Recently, I read Command and Control, Nuclear Weapons, the Damascus Accident, and the Illusion of Safety by Eric Schlosser. I was most interested in his writings about the explosion at Titan II missile complex 374-7 near Damascus, Arkansas in September 1980. Both Mr. Scott and I were working in Titan when this disaster occurred. Schlosser’s detailed account of the events of that night brought home just how much I’d forgotten and also how much I never knew about the disaster. It also reminded me of the profound love that those of us who serve have for each other.

Jun 1978 Tech School
Jun 1978 Tech School

I don’t talk a lot about my first job in the military. As one of my friends told me the other day, “That was soooo last century, girl!” He’s right – it was a long damn time ago. I joined the military in 1978 and became a Propellant Transfer System (PTS) specialist on the Titan II ICBM (big ass missile for you civilians), and I was assigned to the 390th Strategic Missile Wing at Davis-Monthan AFB, Tucson, Arizona. There weren’t a lot of us who held the title – probably less than 250 on active duty at any given time. We were divided between the three operational Titan II wings at Little Rock, McConnell, and Davis-Monthan, the tech school (it was at Chanute AFB when I attended), and the 3901st Strategic Missile Evaluation Squadron in California. Even if we didn’t all know each other personally, we were aware of each other by name and reputation.

Our primary job was to load and unload the propellants utilized by the Titan II, and handle any issues involving those propellants or the equipment. In a nutshell, we were the gas passers.

Scan10007Those are PTS troops in the suits and while that red cloud looks cool – it was freaking lethal. We joked about the BFRCs – Big F***ing Red Clouds created when we spilled a little oxidizer, but that was the nature of the job. Every day, we worked with some of the most dangerous stuff in the world. There were two main components: Fuel – Aerozine 50 was a 50/50 blend of hydrazine and unsymmetrical dimethylhydrazine (UDMH) and Oxidizer – nitrogen tetroxide (NTO to some N2O4 to us). They are hypergolic – that means you don’t have to light a fuse; they ignite from contact with each other. If properly maintained the propellants were stable and could be stored in the missile tanks long term

I’d arrived at Davis-Monthan AFB less than a month before the 24 August 1978 accident at complex 533-7 near Rock, Kansas. While loading the oxidizer tank, a Teflon O-ring became lodged in the poppet valve mechanism and the valve wouldn’t close.

Aerial view of the oxi leak at 533-7
Aerial view of the oxi leak at 533-7
When the team disconnected from the missile, the valve remained open and the missile downloaded itself into the silo. That accident cost two PTS troops their lives and permanently disabled another. Most documents state that Staff Sergeant Robert J. Thomas and Airman 1st Class Erby Hepstall lost their lives because the oxidizer penetrated their protective clothing through tears and design flaws.

We PTS troops know the real reason they died – it was because SSgt Thomas and A1C Hepstall went into a dirty hole and did everything they could to save the missile and their injured teammate. They got the more important of the two things done – they saved their teammate.

1382938_484341048331397_1411149783_nAs happens after every major accident, fingers were pointed, blame was assigned, and crap rolled downhill. But good thing also come of these events. In this case, mechanical changes occurred, safety procedures were adjusted, and the suits were repaired and theoretically upgraded. But at the end of the day, the hazards associated with our job didn’t really change. We worked daily on a weapons system that was archaic, utilizing equipment that was older than most of the people operating it, and we wore protective gear that, due to its age and design, may or may not function when you most needed it to. We also worked for Strategic Air Command who’s informal motto was “To err is human – to forgive is not SAC policy.” All of us knew the risks – every day that a team dispatched to a missile site was a crap shoot, but we never considered not going. It was our job.

Eric Schlosser author of Command and Control… described us as a group:

“The PTS guys were a different breed. Outside of work they had a reputation for being rowdy and wild. They had one of the most dangerous jobs in the Air Force – and at the end of the day they liked to blow off steam, drinking and partying harder than just about anyone else at the base. They were more likely to ride motorcycles, ignore speed limits, violate curfews, and toss a commanding officer into a shower fully clothed after consuming too much alcohol. They called the missiles “birds,” and they were attached to them and proud of them in the same way that good automobile mechanics care about cars. The danger of the oxidizer and the fuel wasn’t theoretical. It was part of the job. The daily risks often inspired a defiant, cavalier attitude among the PTS guys. Some of them had been known to fill a Ping-Pong ball with oxidizer and toss it into a bucket of fuel. The destruction of the steel bucket, accompanied by flames, was a good reminder of what they were working with. And if you were afraid of the propellants, as most people would be, you needed to find a different line of work.”

Were we really that way? Sometimes. I specifically recall that PTS troops had a real thing for mooning each other and anyone in authority – not that I ever did that.

It wasn’t just our view of ourselves. Others perceived us as a bit of a wild bunch. I knew several security policemen at Davis Monthan who rated PTS troops in the same category of crazy as the explosive ordnance disposal (EOD) guys. What I can tell you is that we were one of the few career fields (along with EOD, pararescue, and tactical air combat controllers) to receive hazardous duty pay for the work we did. Fewer than 5,000 people in the entire Air Force qualified to receive haz pay and even firefighters didn’t have it until 2005. I think Schlosser pretty much nailed us as a group. We were damn proud of what we did and our “bad boy” reputation was just a part of that.

A view from the silo door to Level 2 at 571-7.
A view from the silo door to Level 2 at 571-7.

I don’t think any of us ever forgot what had happened at 3-7, but I know we didn’t dwell on it. When you work with hazardous materials, you have to completely focus on what you’re doing when you’re doing it.

Schlosser writes in detail about the accident that occurred near Damascus, Arkansas in September 1980. At complex 374-7, a PTS troop dropped a heavy socket while working in the launch duct. The socket took a bad bounce and instead of hitting the wall or landing harmlessly in the bottom of the launch duct, the tool pierced the stage one fuel tank. The missile immediately began to download itself into the bottom of the silo. This was an operational missile with a full load of fuel and oxidizer as well as a nuclear warhead. The combined weight of the materials on what would soon be an empty fuel tank would cause the airframe to collapse and rupture the oxidizer tanks. Almost eight hours later, Senior Airman David Livingston and Staff Sergeant Jeff Kennedy went onto the complex in an attempt to gather critical information for the command staff. While they were on the site, the missile exploded, destroying the launch complex and blowing the nuclear warhead out of the silo. Sra Livingston died several hours later from the injuries resulting from the blast and the toxic cloud of vapor from the oxidizer that didn’t burn off. Amazingly, SSgt Kennedy survived. Twenty-one people were injured either in the explosion or during the rescue efforts that followed.

A view toward the complex after the explosion.
A view toward the complex after the explosion.

When almost everyone else fled the scene, the surviving PTS troops stayed behind to try to find their brothers. They weren’t leaving without them. And they didn’t.

Every person has a moment when they realize they are mortal. The explosion at 4-7 was my moment. I wasn’t there in person, but I felt the loss and the horror, just as every PTS troop did. Suddenly the earlier deaths of SSgt Thomas and A1C Hepstall had new meaning. Three men were dead, and all they’d been doing was the same job that I went and did every day. I’m also positive that every PTS troop had the feeling – “There but for the grace of God, go I.”

Sunrise launch of a Titan II.
Sunrise launch of a Titan II.
The men and women of PTS are still a small, tightly-knit community. We’ve been reaching out to each other and thanks to a Facebook group, we’re all reconnecting and the war stories have been flying. It’s been a lot of fun, but more importantly, it’s been healing for many of us.

There’s an unbreakable bond that occurs between the people who do work this dangerous. The title brother or sister has true meaning to those of us who use it amongst ourselves. Placing your life in the hands of your team members is an act of faith – our faith is based on the absolute and certain knowledge that no one would ever be left behind.

Nothing has changed. My brothers and sisters will always be there.

To read more about these mishaps I suggest you purchase Command and Control by Eric Schlosser available in Kindle or print from Amazon
Online summaries of the events at:
Complex 533-7 at Rock, Kansas
Complex 374-7 at Damascus, Arkansas

And get off your butts and visit the Titan II Missile Museum at Complex 5717 in Green Valley, Arizona.

Filed Under: Featured, Personal Commentary, Rotate

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