Air University Review, January-February 1984

The Endangered Species

Senior Master Sergeant Keith L. Moore
Utah Air National Guard

I'M ONE of those creatures P. T. Barnum made famous when he declared, "There's a sucker born every minute." My biggest problem is that I'm a believer. I believe everyone. I'm optimistic to the extreme. I expect everyone to be completely honest with me. Of course, I fall prey to snake-oil salesmen, used-car dealers, and politicians. However, I'm not unique. You can still find a sucker or two around if you look for them.

I can't remember when I wasn't a sucker. At twelve years of age I put on my first uniform. Pearl Harbor was bombed on my eleventh birthday, and I took it rather personally. A year later, when I was old enough, I joined the Boy Scouts. I stood, with my arm to the square, and solemnly promised, "On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country. . . ." Perhaps I took that oath a little too seriously. A kid must be a sucker to he in the Boy Scouts. Surely a man shouldn't be held responsible for childhood promises.

Three years later, as a junior in high school, I joined the ROTC. Anyone who would take ROTC had to be a sucker. Those killed in action during World War II were being returned home for burial. There I was, one of the Honor Guard, firing the salute, listening while taps was played, and watching as the flag was folded and presented to the next of kin. All able-bodied men were still at war. Just a few high-school kids and a few old veterans from World War I were left to welcome home the dead. Yeah, there I was, with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, the sucker. They were my heroes, and someone had to care about them.

During my senior year, I joined a newly formed Air National Guard unit, which allowed me to wear the same uniform as those who had fought and died for freedom. The war was over by then, though, and anyone who joined the guard, of course, had to be a sucker. I was proud to be serving with war veterans. I enjoyed summer camp so much that year that I went regular. Only a sucker would do a thing like that because only bums joined the service in peacetime.

Four years later I hung up my uniform, and for six long months I drifted around in civvies, waiting for the local guard unit to come home from the Korean conflict. Finally they were released, and I could become a sucker again.

Since the early '50s, I've been a weekend warrior, a guard technician. Only a sucker would put up with all that stuff for that length of time, but only the suckers went to Vietnam while the others sat it out in Canada. Only a real sucker would volunteer for ten-day active-duty tours in a war zone, flying supplies over and rows of long metal casket containers back home, with the same tearful, lump-in-the-throat routine as in high school.

Yes, I'm one of those suckers, one of those leeches, one of those double-dippers who--with both wife and self working full-time--has never grossed $30,000 a year. I've really had it made, though, for I've been privileged to serve my country. I've been to enough foreign countries to appreciate how great it is to live in the United States. I've been able to buy a home, raise my family, and worship the way I choose. No one has ever fired a shot at me (that I know of), and I haven't had to shoot at anyone else either. Maybe--just maybe--if I had, I'd feel a bit different.

After more than thirty-five years' service, I still get tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat when our flag comes into view. I'm still a sucker for parades and heroes. I can't even get through a verse of "America, the Beautiful" without choking up. In spite of dull TDYS, long "Sun down-Gear up" flights, BX prices higher than those downtown, and rebuilding thirty-year-old airplanes over and over again because of what is called "austerity programs," I'm still a sucker.

Barnum's saying is fast becoming as obsolete as the B-17. I'm afraid that suckers are no longer being born at their original rate. I wish they were. They may even be going out of style. If there were more of them, I'd feel a lot more comfortable and secure about the world my grandchildren are going to inherit. There seem to be too many people thinking only in terms of self. "What's in it for me?" they ask.

What this country needs is a few more suckers like Henry "Hap" Arnold, William Mitchell, James H. "Jimmy" Doolittle, and Ira C. Eaker. We need more suckers who will wear a few stripes and accept the increased demands and sacrifices without quitting. We need their spouses who will also sacrifice, support, and follow them, thus becoming suckers in their own right.

The Air Force needs crew chiefs who will live intimately with every system and peculiarity of their "bird." Suckers who feel a deep sense of pride and accomplishment watching that "bird" take off into a cold streaked dawn and then pace and worry until it delivers its pilot home safe again. We need officers who are actually suckers enough to care about "the mission," the welfare of the troops, and then their own personal welfare, in that order. We need leaders everywhere who know and perform their jobs as thoroughly as they expect their followers to know and perform theirs. We need civilians, in air logistics centers, who won't settle for "close-enough-for-government" work. We need quality assurance folks who demand contract excellence from contractors and vendors. We especially need patriotism, unselfishness, and self-discipline. It's certainly a tall order, isn't it? We need them just the same.

I HOPE I'm wrong, but it looks as though the suckers are fast going the way of the dodo bird. Soon this endangered species is going to be extinct, killed off by indifference, selfishness, and cynicism. It's hard to remain a dedicated sucker when, all around you, the major interests are self-promotion, avoiding responsibility, and getting rich. It's difficult to reconcile oneself to twelve-hour shifts, working outside in all kinds of weather, and a life of fatigue uniforms and grease, when there are fat cats living a country-club existence, with the weekends off, and getting twice the pay. Even a sucker can't feed his family on job satisfaction and patriotism for long. Isn't it ironic that the sucker is always the one called on to forgo a cost-of-living raise so as to set the example for the rest of the nation?

So far, the suckers have held the line. They've met the challenges, sacrificed for the mission, and hung in there. Will there be enough suckers tomorrow to continue on?

Before long, this sucker will have joined the ranks of those who have served their time and faded quietly into the shadows. Specters in forgotten uniform styles, "Pinks," HBTs," "ODs," and "Suntans." Ghostly squadrons in Spads, Jugs, Sabers, and Thuds, waiting, watching, to see if the torch they proudly bore will burn on.

Long live the sucker. God forgive us all if we allow them to become extinct. Maybe this endangered species will survive and prosper. With all my heart, I pray that it will!

151^st Air Refueling Group
Salt Lake City, Utah

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