Where does one start with John? His mother Muriel, a saint, could most likely tell us, but she’d probably tell more than John would tolerate. Muriel, I truly am amazed when I think of you and rearing John.
Let’s start with the orange flight suit… John thought he was slicker than rolled toilet paper in flight school in the Orange Thing. He says he was the envy of every student naval aviator… at the time. (In all the photos you seen—have you ever seen a Naval Aviator in an orange flight suit? I rest my case.)
Once he started flying out in the fleet, well he got cool and began wearing the men’s version of flight suits. John, if you ever read this you can respond on the home page under “Comments”.
John and I lived next door on Okinawa. Christmas Day we sobered up enough to attempt a barbeque. After several San Miguels, I remember Herb (Schutt) and John discussing how to get the dad gummed coals going. After two cans of lighter fluid, (probably more) the burgers were marinated à la the above-mentioned fluid and burnt to a crisp. No coals ignited. I called them gasoline burgers.
Their conversation, as drunks always to do, drifted off the barbeque. Herb said if one could hit a window glass correctly and hard enough—one could break the window and not cut their hand. Of course John disagreed. So, Herb broke all of John’s lower cased windows to show John. In the process Herb encountered a small cut on his pinky finger. And of course, the ensuing conversation almost broke out into an all-out brawl.
John and I became very good friends after we got out of the regular Marine Corps. In the book he’s married, but in real life he’s solo and available, i.e., he’s looking for a new “honey”. So, all of you single and unattached women over 25 reply and send appropriate photos. John instructed me to audition you for him. He insists he’s too busy. There you go buddy don’t say I didn’t ever do anything for you.
John graciously removed his flight school picture for me from his photo album Hall of Fame volume III. I know Juan, I said I wouldn’t let that slip out. OOPS.