UNITED STATES AIR FORCE ACADEMY
CLASS OF 1962
A brief (semi-unofficial) history according to Jack Jamba
Good Evening, Gen Weida, Gen Wagie, members of the head table, guests and ladies and gentlemen of the Class of 2006… HELLO REGTAGS!!..It is my pleasure to be here tonight at your Recognition Dining-in. I have been asked to talk to you tonight about the first Redtag Class, the Class of 1962. The Redtag story has four phases to it. Phase one involves our formative months as Doolies from June 1958 to March 1959. Phase two involves the period from our Spring field trip in March 1959, up to Recognition.. Phase three includes the last three years of our cadet experience. And phase four entails our lives from graduation to the present.
Phase One: June 1958 to March 1959.
Our class of 1962 started its USAFA experience at the interim Academy location at Lowry AFB on June 27, 1958, with 465 appointees. We stayed there while the permanent site, here, near Colorado Springs, was being completed. Almost all of the buildings at Lowry were World War II-era structures: barracks, dining hall, academic bldgs and others. When the first USAFA class, the Class of 1959, entered the Academy, they had commissioned officers, called Air Training Officers or ATOs, that had graduated recently from military academies acting as surrogate upperclassmen. As the next two classes entered the academy, the number of officer upperclassmen decreased, and were gone when we entered the academy. So we were the first class to have three all-cadet upper classes.
The Class of 59 was responsible for our training. They were very diligent about their responsibilities. We learned the finer points of push-ups and how to sweat our body outline onto a wall. They wanted to make sure that they could train a class as well as the ATOs had done. I think they erred on the side of well-disguised terror to whip us into shape. I hated bayonet training, especially running with the rifle at high port arms. We were in incredible shape after the first six weeks of summer training. When the second group of upper classmen arrived after their leave, some of them were a bit out of shape and we ran them into the ground for a couple of weeks, on those multi-mile runs around the base. That was probably one of the sparks for the RTB esprit de corps.
One Sunday during Summer Training there was an Open House for the upperclassmen. One of my classmates finished showering after the Open House period started. He had to get back to his room but he only had a towel for cover. He didn’t want to get written up for being out of uniform. Just then an upperclassman , his girlfriend, and family came into the barracks. My classmate ran out of the bathroom, down the hall and up the stairs. The girlfriend let out a yelp at seeing the naked cadet running down the hall and asked, “Who was that?” The upperclassman said, “I don’t know. He had a towel around his head.”
Then we got back to serious training. But the most endearing thing that the upperclassmen did for us was imbue in our hearts and souls the concepts and very core of the Honor Code. We had no second chance. If you violated the Honor Code, you were dismissed. No second chance. The Honor Code became our internal mantra of integrity and honesty. The Honor Code is the single most important gift you will receive from the Academy experience.
At the end of summer training we were bused to our Forward Airstrip Encampment at Buckley Air Base outside of Denver. We had to pack our belongings for shipment to the new Academy site before we left for Buckley. We spent a couple of days there observing a bomb drop exercise, we fired live ammo in machine guns trying to shoot down drones, experienced strafing runs at a hundred feet by some of the AOCs F-86s while we hiked down a road. They opened the dive brakes and rolls of toilet paper flew out. They put 30 of us at a time in closed tents, set off a tear gas grenade and then had us remove the masks. Sounds like a modern-day Reality Show, doesn’t it. After a day of training classes on survival, escape and evasion, we had an evasion exercise that night. It seems that each little group of Redtag evaders had an officer with them. We started after sunset with a destination that took us through enemy territory. One of my classmates described his group’s experience: “We caught our ‘advisor’ radioing our position to the enemy and tied him up and left him laying out in the field.” My classmate said, “When I left I still owed him a thousand push-ups. I flew with him later on in B-52s.”
After the Forward Airstrip Encampment, we all boarded buses and were delivered to the new Academy site. We got off the buses and looked around for the dormitories and saw them way off in the distance. We were at the north entrance gate to the Academy right off the Interstate. We figured this was a quick stop to let the other buses catch up. A few minutes later we heard the orders, “Get your back-packs on and form up into flight formations.” We marched all the way in. As we neared the Bring Me Men ramp, we were told to smile for the cameras. We were on national TV.
The academic year started soon after. The grind of academics, the constant military training and strict discipline left little time for relaxation. But the third classmen had to indoctrinate us on how to ‘relax.” In my squadron, Fightin’ Fourth, a third classman had surreptitiously brought a parakeet into his room in a cage. He hid the parakeet for a while but it eventually croaked. It couldn’t hack all the push-ups. The third classman told four of my classmates to be ready 15 minutes after lights out, in fatigues and carrying rifles. They gathered together and stealthily went down stairs to the terrazzo level and scooted across the terrazzo to the grass. The 3rd classman dug a small rectangular hole in the dirt and produced a small box with the parakeet in it. They strung two strings across the hole, placed the box on it and slowly lowered it while they hummed Taps. Then they raised their rifles and said BANG! Then someone said a short prayer for the dearly-departed. They ran back to the squadron area and went to bed without being caught. It was little escapades like this that helped to relieve the tension of daily stress.
During football season, our home games were played at the University of Denver stadium because our stadium wasn’t finished. We were all bused down to the stadium. After the game we were on Open Post until 11 o’clock in the big city, Denver. The first three classes had not enjoyed that many open posts when they were Doolies. We felt that the Almighty was indeed smiling on us. We had to be on time for the buses because it was a long walk back or an expensive taxi ride.
When we played Iowa that season, they were in first place in the Big Ten. After an impromptu rally to send the team off on a Thursday night, someone suggested a bus ride to see the game. The administration bought into it and they had it arranged the next day. We were bused to Iowa City, Iowa, on a marathon overnight 20-hour trip. Several buses broke down along the way and were showing up at different times during the game. Many of us got there in time to do the march-on. We tied Iowa, 13-13. That was quite an achievement for our first year in Division 1 play. We ended the regular season undefeated with one tie and received a Cotton Bowl invitation. Iowa was undefeated with one tie and went on to win the Big Ten Conference and the Rose Bowl that year. The trip was voluntary and we had to pay for it. They deducted $5 per month from our $10 per month spending allowance for a few months. By the way our base pay was $111.20 monthly.
One night, a few classmates were trying to rig a football rally banner somewhere between the Library and the Academic Building. The primitive suspension system had a partial failure. They couldn’t haul one of my classmates back up to the roof. So they had to let him down into the waiting arms of the Security Police. I don’t think they were waiting for him with a hot cup of coffee. Tours, tours, tours.
Another time, persons unknown moved bushes and trees in nursery pots onto the parade grounds to prevent a parade. The bushes and trees had been pre-positioned by a landscaping company for planting around the parade ground and neighboring areas. The plan worked. The parade was cancelled. But it backfired a little bit. The landscaping company wouldn’t accept the potted bushes and trees back since they had been mistreated. The Chain of Command asked the guilty parties to come forward. No one moved. No one spoke..No one admitted doing the dirty deed. (No pun intended.) So the Commandant’s office docked every cadet’s account a dollar or so, to cover the cost of buying new bushes and trees. I don’t know for sure if the Redtags did it but I strongly suspect they did.
When the Christmas break came, we had to spend it at the Academy. A couple of my classmates were getting bored. There were two second classmen who were on academic probation and had to stay at the academy to study and retake a test. My classmates went to the Cadet Store and bought some general’s stars and put them on their raincoats. They banged on the upperclassmen’s door twice and burst into the room. The second classmen looked quickly, saw the stars and jumped to attention and froze there. My two classmates proceeded to mess up their room. Bedding, uniforms, and other things went on the floor. Then they made a quick exit. My classmates could almost see the light bulb slowly coming on. The upperclassmen were thinking, “HHHMMMM …why would two 4-star generals be in OUR dorm over Christmas and choose OUR room to inspect? There’s something fishy going on here” The next thing they heard was: “You two halt!! Hit it for a thousand!!” They weren’t bored anymore that weekend. Push-ups… uniform formations… push-ups…. room inspections…. push-ups…. push-ups…. push-ups.
The Athletic Dept helped to relieve any boredom anyone else had during that Christmas by arranging for the class to travel by train to Dallas for the Cotton Bowl on New Year’s Day. It was a freebie, paid by the Athletic Department. We boarded the chartered train in Colorado Springs and traveled overnight to Dallas. After arrival we showered and dressed at the SMU Fieldhouse. We went to the stadium for the march-on and the game. The football team slugged it out against TCU and wound up with a 0-0 tie score. So the football team ended the season undefeated with two ties. Later that evening we got back on the train for departure. After everyone debarked from the train in Colorado Springs and the train was headed north to Denver, a porter found two classmates sleeping in a small room. The train was heading through the Academy grounds at the time so it stopped and let the cadets off. The buses saw the cadets getting off the train and all stopped and waited for the two. They hopped on the bus, like this was a regular bus stop and finished the trip. Nothing was ever said about it. No demerits, no tours, no report, nothing.
One morning at about 0400 hours, a classmate heard several cadets in his squadron leave their rooms. He heard the patter of feet in the hallway, the whump of the stairwell door, footsteps on the stairs, the whump of the stairwell door on the next floor and 2 or more voices start to say “Sir! There are two minutes until first call for reveille formation. The uniform is Class A Blues or bathrobe, pajamas and slippers. There are two minutes, Sir.” Not three minutes, the normal drill. Two: like the minute callers had screwed up and overslept. It was brilliant.
Next he heard the Whump of the stairwell door upstairs, the fast patter of feet on the stairs, the quick whump of the stairwell door, the patter of speeding feet in the hall and the Whomp of a room door closing. Then came the sound of new voices above shouting “Sir! There is one minute until reveille formation. The uniform is Class A Blues or bathrobe, pajamas and slippers. There is one minute, Sir.” Just as they had expected, the real minute callers had heard the announcement and assumed they had overslept. So they jumped out into the hall to call minutes. The next thing the minute callers heard was irate upperclassmen chewing them out. “What are you numbskull, empty-headed dumbsquats doing waking us up two hours before reveille? Hit it. I’ll tell you when to stop.” The culprits got away clean.
We went on our Spring field trip in March 1959, visiting Major Air Command bases in California for two weeks. We absorbed the information knowing that it would help us after graduation. We toured flight lines and poked our heads into cockpits, command centers and all sorts of facilities as well as received numerous briefings on the missions and capabilities of the Major Air Commands. We all got a chance to ride in front-line aircraft depending on what group you were in. I got a 45 minute ride in an F-100. It was fascinating. At one location, the wives and daughters of base personnel were trying to put on a nice coffee and donut break for us. We had had no lunch and were starving. They opened the Base Theater doors and we mobbed the tables and stripped every donut in less than 30 seconds. I don’t think we were the politest people on the base. Not the way officers and gentlemen are supposed to act.
At another base, there was an after-Taps barracks fight. The first floor against the second floor. The fight was in progress when the AOC in Charge and his staff burst into the barracks. He became a target for e few seconds. Order was restored and the ranking cadet, although he was trying to stop the battle, was confined to the base for the weekend. Everybody else involved had the weekend off. There were several other rambunctious instances during that field trip. When we got back to USAFA, several high-ranking 59ers were there to greet us. They stood us at attention, chewed us out and rammed our heads back. One of them looked at us with fire in his eyes and said “You are nothing but a bunch of filthy Redtag Bastards.” Something told us we were in for some trouble and about to understand the term “unbridled fury.”.
We found out later why the upperclassmen were so angry over what we considered a few harmless incidents. It seems that news of our activities had spread across the country as active duty pilots would land at another base, see firstclassmen on Operation 3rd Lt. and tell them about the Class of ’62. The firstclassmen told us that they were embarrassed by our performance. At a meal shortly after we returned from California, we were informed that our Recognition, which was scheduled to take place just before June Week, would be delayed because of our performance on the field trip and that the upper classmen would be providing special attention to bring us up to their standards. As a class, we received extra military training, physical exercises and many more moments of emotional stress as the upper classes applied the pressure. We were all in it together. We helped each other out in any way possible. It was them against us. It was something we had to overcome and we were going to do it no matter what. We were going to show the upper classes that we were better than they thought we were. We stuck together despite adversity. When I look back at the events of the period, I thank the upperclasses for the big favor they did for us. The class of 1962 bonded as no other class after it has done. We accepted the RTB name as a symbol of the camaraderie, strength and cohesiveness of the class. We were the RTBs.
We endured the trial by fire that was imposed on us. We had uniform formations and pleasant, unannounced jogs in the beautiful neighboring countryside….in combat boots, fatigues, with rifles …at all hours of the day and sometimes at night or early morning. We did push-ups until our biceps were as big as our legs, or so it seemed. We ran until our legs were as lean as our biceps. When the facts are examined, there was only a minority of the class that was involved with the events that occurred. But we stuck together as a class. We were now the RTBs. And we really liked the name.
Our Recognition was not delayed. We were recognized on time at the start of June Week. It was well-deserved. And we had the sore muscles to prove it.
Over the next three years, the Redtags set about preparing for graduation and integration into the Air Force.
We studied hard and played hard. We excelled on the fields of friendly strife and in the classrooms. During our third class summer we went on a two-week tour of Air Force installations in Europe. Yes, they trusted us on another field trip. But that’s another story. I remember flying into Berlin when it was still in a partitioned Germany. We visited the East German checkpoint and saw the stark differences between the Western and Eastern zones. The western zone was rebuilt to a large extent and had people bustling all over. The East zone still lay in rubble with ragged looking people and littered streets. It showed us what we were training to fight for, why we opposed Communism.
On a personal note, when I graduated from High School, I was taking my yearbook to other classmates getting them to sign it. I was amazed at how many I had never met. I resolved that I would meet all my Redtag classmates. In the middle of the first semester of our third class year, I finally met the last one. I had a good memory for names and faces back then and could greet every one by name for years afterward. Nowadays, a name tag helps at reunions. You have a large class. You might consider meeting every one in your cadet group. Think about it.
During the Fall semester, someone hatched a plan to steal the Mule mascot from West Point. At least two cadets had attended West Point and still had their uniforms. Members from other classes were also involved. Arrangements were made through the Chain of Command and a C-130 took a team of cadets and a couple of officers to New York. They rented a couple of horse trailers with ramps and borrowed cars from cadet families in the area. They stayed at the house of one of my classmates a short distance from West Point. At the appointed time in the middle of the night, they made their way out to the mule stable and were in the process of cajoling a mule up the truck ramp when it decided not to budge. Nothing could make it move. It stood there for several minutes. They wasted too much time. Then they were confronted by Military Police cars with lights flashing, sirens blasting and people shouting orders to surrender. The team scattered helter-skelter into the woods. One classmate ran off a 10-foot high ravine in the dark but only got some cuts and scratches. Several were caught and explained the plan. The Military Police thought it was brilliant and would have worked if not for the stubborn mule. The cadets learned that not all plans work as designed. They vowed next time to bring 20 cadets,drug the mule and manually haul it on board.
It was early 1960 during basketball season with a game coming up against Regis College and there was a lot of taunting between USAFA and Regis. The Regis men were unhappy that some of the Loretto Heights girls were dating cadets. So the Redtags decided to paint the Loretto Heights water tower. A group of the Redtags had the weekend off. The water tower was silver, the paint was blue and it was a cold, clear night. Two Redtags made it to the base of the tower and started up the tower. The First Redtag was at the top in nothing flat. The Second Redtag was one third of the way up and discovered he was afraid of heights. He got halfway up when he noticed a bunch of guys milling around at the base of the ladder. “Oh Damn!!” He thought. “We’ve been discovered.” One of them started up the ladder and realized there was someone above him on the ladder. He scooted down and they all ran off. A few minutes later a member of the second group appeared at the base of the ladder. “Who are you?” he asked. “No, who are you?”said the Redtags. “Cadets” came the reply. “We’re cadets, too.” The person on the ground asked “Who makes the F-100?” The Redtags replied “North American.” The Redtags asked “Who is the Deputy Commandant of Cadets?” He said “Colonel Ferrari.” “OK, OK” he said and disappeared. The Redtags painted “GO AIR FORCE. BEAT REGIS” on the north part of the tank facing Regis. They got down the ladder and sped off in the getaway car. The next day they opened the Denver Post and saw their paint job on the front page. Redtags win again.
During our thirdclass year, the entire class took the Graduate Record Exams. Usually the GREs are taken in the senior year of college. It is the collegiate equivalent of the high school SATs. The Academic Dept wanted to gain collegiate accreditation from the regional accreditation board as early as possible. The normal accreditation process usually takes several years. One way the Academy hoped to shorten the process was by having us take the exam as sophomores. The nationwide results were that some Ivy League schools took the top three places, the Class of 1960 took 4th place and the Redtags took 6th place. We had established some of our credentials as a well-educated group of soldier-scholars. We were very proud of that academic accomplishment. But some of us weren’t sure what it meant. “Were we going to get the weekend off?”
“No? …What does undying gratitude mean?”
At the beginning of our senior summer, we went on Operation 3rd Lt. All of us were assigned to operational units around the Air Force. We spent two weeks with a unit sponsor assigned to each of us. It was great. It was a chance to observe officers and enlisted personnel performing their everyday duties. We received some briefings on the mission of our assigned unit. I went to George AFB near Victorville, CA. I got a ride in an F-104. And it helped clarify career goals for some classmates. It made many Redtags eager to get on with our Air Force careers, especially the ones who were walking lots of tours.
I remember one event that happened during my senior year. It was Saturday Morning Inspection time and I was listening to a new Twist record. In case you aren’t familiar with it, the Twist was a form of dancing we did in the 60’s. My music was just a little too loud and I failed to hear the squadron being called to attention. All of a sudden, the Deputy Commandant of Cadets, the previously-mentioned Colonel Ferrari, walked into my room followed by our AOC. I popped to attention and he walked in doing a restrained version of the twist in time with the music on my record. He Said, “That’s got a good beat, Jamba. What’s the name of it?” He copied the name from the label and went twisting out the door. “Carry on, Jamba” That was one of the lighter moments that kept reminding us that our superiors were human, too.
It was senior year, before the CU game, and there were rumors that the CU crowd was going to try to steal our falcons. A pre-emptive strike was necessary. Three Redtags with three second classmen, on a weekday night after Taps, headed for Boulder and the CU campus. They had several 50 lb bags of flour from the Dining Hall and several hundred flyers hand-written by Doolie conscripts (there were no copy machines back then) that said “GO Air Force. Beat the Buffs.” Upon reaching the campus, some of them dispersed to dormitories, frat houses, sorority houses and other places handing out the flyers. Meanwhile, at the sacred quadrangle outside the Student Union, the other cadets inscribed “AFA” in 15-20 foot high letters in the grass using the flour. By the way, they spelled it right. In the process of leaving, they were stopped by the campus police. The car had a campus parking sticker courtesy of one of the Redtags’ girlfriend. The police searched the trunk which was empty and did not see the empty flour sacks under the feet of the second classmen in the back seat. The cops copied down the parking sticker number and let the car go. The group made it back to the Academy just before sunrise undetected. As the morning wore on, the students at CU discovered the AFA letters on the grass and their administration went bananas. They thought the letters had been chemically burned into the grass. The campus police traced the sticker number back to the girlfriend, visited the her and threatened her with expulsion if she didn’t reveal the owner of the car. The campus police had his name and were out for blood. A few days later, my classmate was summoned to his AOC’s office. The AOC said that some cadets were allegedly at CU a few nights before and had done some major damage to the grass with lime and could he shed any light on that? My classmate said, “If they taste it, they will find out it is flour and will not damage the grass.” The AOC winked at him, smiled and said, “Dismissed.”. The Redtags won again.
Graduation was on June 6 1962. Vice President Lyndon B Johnson presented our diplomas. There were 298 graduates. General Curtis E Lemay presented our commissions. One graduate was not commissioned, one was commissioned in the Army, three in the Navy and three in the Marines.
During the short benediction to end the graduation, we slipped red cap covers over our hats. When “You are dismissed” was shouted, we yelled and threw 298 red tag hats into the air.
The Redtags had a very impressive academic record. We had three Rhodes Scholars, four Olmsted Scholars, and two National Science Foundation Scholars and several other prestigious graduate scholars.
Twenty-four classmates earned PhD degrees and 115 earned Masters Degrees.
Our class produced 17 general officers.
In Vietnam, 14 classmates made the ultimate sacrifice.
Three of the Redtags spent time in Hell as POWs.
More than half served to retirement. More than 50 served 30 years or more.
Our class flew almost every line aircraft in the inventory. We held positions in every major air command and were stationed at almost every active base in the Air Force. We welcomed each other wherever we met. We were the Redtags!
We provided our contribution to the defense of our nation. We were and are a proud class.
I have shared some stories and historical facts about the Redtags with you. The years have blurred some memories; I hope I have recreated these stories as factually as possible. The stories were little vignettes of our time at USAFA. We certainly did not spend all of our time thinking up pranks and running amuck. We spent a large part of our time studying and honing our leadership skills. We had the best collegiate education available in the United States.
The Princeton Review said recently that USAFA is one of the best universities in the nation. I think you were rated number two overall in the nation. Take advantage of it. You’ll never have a second chance.
Here are my thoughts about the Honor Code. It never leaves you. It is as big a part of my life today, as it was 44+ years ago. It still provides the guidance and moral foundation for my actions even as it did then. My classmates will tell you the same thing. It will do the same for you. So my advice to you is to embrace it and follow it always.
The class of 1962 went through the Academy at a unique time in history. Those conditions will never be duplicated again. But you have a unique set of circumstances that will set the tone for your Academy experiences and shape your destiny. What would I propose to you.
Follow the Honor Code; You may let it down but it will never let you down.
Don’t worry about adversity; adversity builds character.
Know as many of your classmates as possible; those bonds will last a lifetime.
Study; knowledge gained will help you overcome adversity and build a foundation for success.
When it is time to relax, stop to smell the roses and enjoy it.
GO REDTAGS!!!
THANK YOU JACK!
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