Next up... finally.

Sorry it’s taken me so long to write the next chapter, but that silly little thing we call ‘work’ got in my way. I’ll try to be more consistent with my entries, but my schedule is often very fluid and sometimes doesn’t permit me the opportunity to write.

The next stop in my burgeoning Navy career was NAS Sigonella in Sicily, Italy. Strategically located in the middle of the Mediterranean, it’s the primary logistical support element for U.S. SIXTH Fleet operations and is often referred to as the “Hub of the Med.”

My first residence there was an apartment in a town called Motta (pronounced: Moe-tah), a little south of Belpaso. The view from my living room window was of Mt. Etna and at night I could see it’s glowing peak, even from afar. On Christmas eve in 1991 I was sitting in my living room when I suddenly felt a little dizzy – and I hadn’t even been drinking! I quickly realized the overhead light fixture was swaying on the wire it was hanging from also. Having grown up in New Jersey, I had never experienced an earthquake firsthand, but after that night I couldn’t say that anymore. I rushed outside to look at Etna and sure enough, it was erupting & spewing lava skyward, glowing brighter than I had ever seen it. It was an awesome sight and one I’ll never forget. The ‘quake’ only lasted a few brief moments and then subsided, but it was pretty cool.

From a professional standpoint, NAS Sigonella was a step backward in my career. The traffic was slow and not the least bit challenging. In fact, the biggest challenge was learning how the Italians wanted things done. See, it was their tower & radar room, the U.S. Navy controllers merely supplemented the Italian Air Force controllers. International Civil Aviation Organization (ICAO) rules applied over there, in addition to techniques and procedures the Italians had in place. A lot of the rules were very close to our U.S. standards, but just different enough to be a pain. For example, I once had a pair of USAF F-16’s (both carrying live ordnance in support of Desert Storm) ready to taxi for departure. I requested their clearance from the Italian Flight Data controller who calls Roma control (In Rome) for their clearance – Very similar to what we do here in the U.S. The difference is that I was told they (the F-16’s) had to wait… 12 hours!!!! That almost never happens in the states. Apparently the controllers in Rome were too busy and rather than prioritize their work, they just slapped a 12 hour delay on a pair of fighter planes destined for Desert Storm! I couldn’t believe it. Keep in mind, the Gulf is no hop, skip and a jump from Sicily. These fighters had aerial refueling tankers they had to meet and a mission to complete. To say I was livid would be an understatement. Anyway, I got qualified throughout the facility and learned to adapt to the daily grind pretty quickly, even if I didn’t necessarily enjoy it. As I said, it wasn’t overly challenging or difficult. Couple that with the fact that my chain of command was less than desirable and I was beginning to consider ending my career after this tour. I was miserable.

One highlight was our watch standing duties as E-5’s. We stood what is called an Operations Duty Officer (ODO) watch from 1600 (4:00 PM) until 0700 the following morning. It was a sleep in watch that normally consisted of reviewing messages, issuing PPR numbers (Prior Permission Required) and a few other odd tasks. Anyone flying into NASSIG required prior permission, so we’d take down all the flight information – date, time in, time out, type a/c, etc. and issue a sequential number that authorizes them to land there. On more than one occasion I issued PPR’s to Kalitta Flying Service A/C!!

So there I am in my rack one night getting some much needed shut-eye when the Flight Planning Dispatcher wakes me to tell me I have a very important phone call that I have to take. When I get to my desk (located in the Flight Planning office) I see there’s nobody on hold so I look at the dispatcher with a “what the hell!” look on my face. She politely informs me that the incoming call is on the STU-III phone in the back room. (The STU-III is a secure phone, used for secure (classified) communications.) I pick up the receiver and the gentleman on the other end directs me to “go secure.” Talking on a secure phone is interesting, to say the least. The voices are modified and changed to an almost electronic playback for the listener. We kept a legal pad at the ready near the phone because often times the information you received on that phone would need to be passed on to much higher authority and you didn’t want to screw it up. What I received on this particular night was a lengthy, and I do mean lengthy list of (nearly 100) fighter, attack and tanker type aircraft – all loaded to the gills with live ammo, and all headed to the start of Desert Storm! (F-15’s, F-16’s, A-10’s, KC-135’s, etc.) When I turned on the news after hanging up I learned that the war had officially begun. So much for a restful night of sleep, huh?

Another fun experience was my trip to Sinop, Turkey located literally right on the Black Sea. Our station C-12 (Super King-Air) had to fly a mission to Sinop for something and they were going to be more or less empty both ways. Our Operations Officer (the one bright spot in the chain of command) came up with the idea to have a drawing – one sailor from each division in the Operations Department – so a few folks who wouldn’t normally get the chance to go to Turkey, much less Sinop, could fly in the C-12. I won from the air traffic control division and I had a lot of fun. Sinop is, as I said, right on the water and it’s quite lovely. We stayed two nights and came home. The downside was the fact that it took two four hour legs in the tight confines of the Super King Air to get there, and the same coming back – holy claustrophobia batman!

Sigonella was a test for me, and I honestly couldn’t tell you if I passed or failed. I made it through, though I had a few scars for my efforts. My liver absolutely hated me & I was developing a hatred for the Navy. When I left there I was convinced my next two years at NAS Brunswick, ME, would be my last in the service. I had seen a lot in the relatively short time I had spent in the Navy, most of it good, though some of it (and most recently) bad. Still, I picked myself up, brushed myself off and transferred to Brunswick with the hope of beginning anew and getting on with my life…