I remember the day vividly because I was excited to be an AF Cadet Honor Flight leader when Air Force One was scheduled to land at San Antonio on November 23rd. That day was never to be, however.
Officer Training School at Lackland AFB in San Antonio was like basic training only with less hassle than I experienced some nine years earlier at boot camp. Some of my contemporaries were also from enlisted ranks, but most came directly from college and had no prior knowledge of military protocol. Nowhere was the difference more noticeable than on the drill field. Given the temporary rank of Flight Lieutenant, my first task was to shape up my flight of plebes and teach them how to march. This was my first taste of authority, and I spent extra time with the less coordinated and earned the respect of my flight after they were honored to lead the squadron during their first Saturday parade. Flight Tiger-Twelve, they named themselves, and when called to formation each morning, each would emit the loud growl of their mascot as they exited the barracks on their way to formation.
“What’s the motto of Tiger-Twelve?” I would yell after taking roll call and bringing the flight to attention.
“Every man a Tiger, SIR!” was their throaty response.
With that, I would execute a smart about face, salute my squadron commander and report:
“Every Tiger…uh…man, present and accounted for, SIR!”
This bending of protocol went on for the first week of drill, but finally, one of the training officers squelched it, saying it didn’t reflect well on the squadron, particularly when the “Every man a Tiger, SIR!” retort could be heard across the parade ground and all the way to the Base Commander’s reviewing stand.
I enjoyed taking my flight of plebes to new heights of marching perfection and when I learned that President Kennedy might be stopping at San Antonio during his visit to Texas, I was excited my flight might compete for the coveted role of Honor Flight when JFK emerged from Air Force One.
Events in Dallas that week erased all excitement, however, and instead, I led my flight, along with the entire base military cadre, to a hastily organized memorial service. My voice broke with emotion as I echoed the command to present arms.
On that cold November afternoon, taps were played for My President.