I'm one of the Navy fighter pilots that rocked the great state of New York on 9/11.
At 6:59 AM my crew was scrambled to fly our six Boeing F/A-18E Super Hornets, along with ten other squads, to perform some aerial escorting for eleven hijacked commercial aircraft.
Good thing the coffee was hot.
In six minutes flat we were in Outrigger formation around our target. young kid — must've been about 19-years-old —was at the controls of the highjacked airplane.
It didn't matter who was in the cockpit; m
y squad was flying that plane now.Bitchin.'
Those boats are slow as molasses.
Nothing I love better than pulling tight formation around a big plane, and bringing it down like a feather.
I was on the left side of the American Airlines plane — 36 inches from the tip of my wing to his windshield.
Kip was right-side.
Tom and Jon had the wings —
Berl on top — Ringo (no relation) was stuck at the bottom. As usual.By the time we escorted the plane down safely at Langly, the other ten squads were waiting for us.
"Goddamn it," I thought — my guys would have to buy beer for sixty other pilots that night.
At least the coffee was still hot.
Extra light with 1/2&1/2, and one sugar.
