(This is a shortened edit from an original post far below)
“OPEN JET!"
Lt Col Kaiser boomed at the 50th Flying Training 'Strikin Snakes' on the PA across the squadron.
Leadership - StrikeEagles - NC Flying
(This is a shortened edit from an original post far below)
“OPEN JET!"
Lt Col Kaiser boomed at the 50th Flying Training 'Strikin Snakes' on the PA across the squadron.
"Can't say I've ever been here before, KEGI*."
"You can say that again, JJ.
Can't say I've ever seen a Hawk battery looking at me quite like this, either.
I think maybe they like us!"
KEGI Cole and I were in a steep 45 degree right turn now, rounding the sharp corner over the Straits of Hormuz behind the big KC-135 tanker.
We were looking at the Persian coastline right down there... where those Iranian surface-to-air missile batteries, supplied by the US way back in the 70s during the Shah's time, were watching us with their radar as we passed.
Underneath Shag's jet over on the far left wing of the tanker, we could see the brown coastline of Iran near Bandar Abbas.
"This makes me queasy down in the cockles of my heart, KEGI," I joked.
I was referencing a Dennis Leary song we sang in the Rockets.
In my right mirror, I saw two two bright FLASHES and could see Shorty wrenched around back there, looking over his right shoulder at something down our 4 o’clock wing line.
The fading orange light was moving shadows upward on my canopy as the flares Shorty had instinctively popped were falling to the ground.
“Boss! I just saw ...muzzle flashes; right!"
Shorty losing his chill shocked me more than the words he was saying.
Shorty Bone never lost his chill.
Twice in my flying career I nearly ran my jet out of gas.
Both experiences were as painful as they were permanently instructional, and Lt Col Brugh helped me with both of them.
My second act of gas buffoonery was in a Strike Eagle, flying in Area 12 way out over the ocean in the Whiskey MOAs off of Cape Lookout, North Carolina - near where the 'Big Rock' deep sea tournament guys fish the Gulf Stream.
I was pulling hard, and we were down low, at the floor, Afterburners blazing and burning a ton of gas for a few seconds after we heard the clear "BINGO FUEL" warning from Bitchin' Betty in the helmet telling us to go home.
As a brand-new 4th Classman at the United States Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs, I was a long way from home in November 1986. I was 18 years old, barely 150 pounds, I was getting yelled at by upperclassmen morning, noon, and night, and my life was a profoundly unpleasant experience.
We discussed Leadership, The Art of the Debrief, and creating Radical Candor to build an organization.
but most importantly -
We raised funds and awareness for an amazing local Raleigh support organization:

I looked up high at the giant T-Tail over me as I stepped off the big white bus and waited there on the tarmac by the Red Cross.
Waiting for the medics to move their convalescent patients out the back door and up the ramp, the reality of transitioning my fighter-pilot mind from prepping to fly a sunrise Dawn Patrol mission over Afghanistan, to loading up, instead, on a Medevac C-17 bound for Germany at 10 in the morning hit me like an anvil. I turned around quickly to see jets ripping through the cold air, a two-ship of our very own Chief StrikeEagles - getting airborne over the runway next to us and driving the point firmly home for me.

The best part of helping our Hurricane Helene victims was the chance to join with so many super volunteers at Statesville, Rutherfordton, and Ashe County airports.
The volume of supplies sent in short notice before government authorities could arrive was just tremendous, and those who helped deliver it over the week after the traumatic event were truly joyful servants. Such a fantastic experience! Prayers for all those impacted by this powerful event.
Leaders, therefore, need to remain ever mindful of these perceptions and take charge of that narrative by taking the steps to actively demonstrate the values they care about for their teams."
Jordan Kestenbaum
My good friend at Disney Institute
Too often, these words are used interchangeably, or they are misunderstood with one regarded as superior to the other. In truth, they're both different, and they are both essential for a team. When supervising any group, a person needs to know when to lead, and when to manage, and how to know the difference:
MANAGEMENT:
Optimization of those operations essential for function of the mission while minimizing disruptive change.
LEADERSHIP:
A great supervisor knows when to wear either hat.
We decentralized until it made us uncomfortable, and it was right there - on the brink of instability- that we found our sweet spot."
General Stanley McCrystal
We said goodbye to my best friend today. 14.5 years old. She has caught 10,000 frisbees for me....
An amazing, beautiful, majestic, athletic, empathetic friend.
Here's her story (from a post far below):
The Step.
The one thing all aviators share, regardless of which airplane they fly, is the Step. The Step is anticipates. The Step transforms. The Step is confident. And the Step can sometimes be a fearful, courageous move. The Step is one of those few things that only aviators do. The Step is the glorious space of time between which an aviator makes the decision to go out and fly - that point when he or she commits to leave the ground in the machine - and the moment the engine begins turning. This short period is known as the Step, and every Aviator knows just what it means.