  NAS Cubi Point, PhilippinesBy Marc "Devil Dog Of The Web" Iseli / Updated Dec. 2025 Back in the 80s, NAS Cubi Point was anything but quiet. It was a nonstop circus of aircraft, fuel, and people who probably hadn’t slept in days. Forget the postcard version—this place was all business, all the time. If you weren’t dodging a P-3 Orion on the taxiway, you were elbow-deep in corrosion control on an RF-4B, sweating through your flight suit and wondering if the smell was more JP-5 or just you. The tempo? Relentless. There was always flights taking off and landing and, always another job that needed doing yesterday. Our Flightline is located at the end of the runway, just next to Dungaree Beach—a spot that looked nice enough if you ignored the jet noise and the occasional hydraulic slick. After launches, we’d sometimes jump in to rinse off the sweat and whatever else we’d picked up. No ride? Enjoy the hike up Zambales Highway, because nothing says 'good times' like dragging yourself uphill in the 100 degree heat. At least your houseboy had your civvies squared away, so you could hit Olongapo looking halfway presentable. By late afternoon, the sky went full tropical postcard, but nobody was stopping to admire it. The flight line finally quieted down, which meant it was time for the real action, just a quick trip across shit-river—clubs, shops, and for the officers, the infamous Cubi Point O’ Club. The place was plastered with plaques and full of aviators telling the same stories for the hundredth time, each one getting a little more heroic with every San Miguel. Down in Olongapo, the neon was blinding, jeepneys blasted music, and Marines wandered around pretending they had a plan. Half the time, we were just glad to be off the clock. If you stood still long enough, you might almost think the place made sense. Almost.
 Flash Forward Cubi Point Officers Club The Cubi Point Officers' Club: part booze palace, part museum, all chaos. Perched at NAS Cubi Point from 1951 to 1992, this multi-decked Navy watering hole was where pilots went to swap war stories, when there was no war, lose paychecks, and try not to get banned for life. The infamous Plaque Bar looked like a trophy shop that had exploded, with thousands of squadron mementos, each with a story that probably violated at least three UCMJ articles. When the base shut down in '91, the Navy did the only logical thing: packed up the bar and shipped it to Pensacola, where it lives on as the Cubi Bar Café at the National Museum of Naval Aviation. Because some legends are too stubborn to die. Alright, you glorious Rat Phixers and Phlyers, if we ever survived a TAD, a Det, or a BOHICA, who haven't, and you didn’t think I was the biggest gaff off in the squadron. Got a sea story, or some grainy photos your ex didn’t set on fire, and they’re only slightly illegal? Send ‘em by email, snail mail, or safety wire it to a carrier pigeon. I collect ‘em all, just nothing that would incriminate me. 80svmfp3@gmail.com Return To The Home Page  |
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