VMFP-3 80s Flashback

Home / The Rat Pack

Black Sheep Squaron Of The 80s
By Marc "Devil Dog Of The Web" Iseli / Updated 2005
If you thought the real Black Sheep were those A-4 clowns across the runway, you clearly never wandered into our backyard. We were the F-4 squadron nobody wanted to claim, and we wore that like a crumpled-up pair of cami trousers, which we often did wear. They called us the Rat Pack, mostly because the enlisted crew could out-mischief a Navy SEAL on shore leave. Most of our pilots would have traded a kidney (or something more precious) to fly anything but the RF-4B, but someone had to keep the recce pigs grunting. At least our officers weren’t all straight-laced, and the brass let us get away with stuff that would have you questioning the sanity of a certain person's actions. Plane Captains in flight suits, get out of our way, devil dog. And if you were the new guy, you’d better brace for pink bellies, hazing was alive and well, and nobody got a pass. Check out the photo on the left for proof. The stories only get more questionable from here. Below are a few motivational, or maybe just criminal, tales from the upper crust of the Rat Pack.

By Sgt. Mike Clifton (Photo Line) / Updated 2005
The P-3 football team qualified for the MCAS Iwakuni championship. They ended up playing at Marine Corps Base, you know, those "non-deploying " types. The ones with lots of time to practice. Our guys had just returned from the PI. Make sure that you remember the hours that we worked. So, our guys didn't have much time to practice, but they made it to the playoffs anyway! I'm not sure if Maj Neal knew that our guys were going to get slaughtered, or if he just wanted us to have a good time before the game. Regardless of his motivation, He decided that we would have a squadron party the day of the game:-) As you can imagine, after several hours of partying with two of the three " B's ", Barbecue, Beer & Babes (We had the first two), some of us were a bit suspect of the abilities of our guys to make the game. I came up with the cheerleader " plan and tossed it to my friend Rusty (LCpl) Brasher from Ordnance. Rusty had been a big baseball player in high school back in Hueytown, Alabama , and hung out a lot with most of the real cheerleaders there. He knew quite a few cheers. So next, we recruited four others who were as drunk/stupid as we were. We were the only ones who knew about this. We were actually able to keep the plan a secret right up to the minute that the game started . The supply Sgt donated six new mopheads, a couple of cans of spray paint (hair coloring), and a half dozen bed sheets (skirts). We bought our own balloons(boobs) and shirts. Just as the teams were lined up for the opening kickoff, we came running out of the P-3 barracks carrying a P-3/RF banner made from another sheet that the supply Sgt "donated". From what I understand, the Wing C.O. was very impressed with us and asked Maj Neal if we would "volunteer" to be the "Official " Wing Cheerleaders at the international field meet/base open house he has next month. It was kinda funny when the Col. came over to US after the game and congratulated us for a great performance. The Col. sent each of us a letter after the International field meet.

By Steve Bautz / Updated 2005
In '83 we won the Commandant's Aviation Efficiency Trophy for that year. It was proudly displayed in the hangar. If memory serves me correctly, someone "broke into" the trophy case and put a large dead rat in with the trophy. It gave a whole new meaning to the RF squadron( Rat Fuckers).

By Tom Hotchkiss / Updated 2005
We used to take a spare nose wheel tire and pull the ole "oops the wheel fell off the jet!!" on the rookie pilots...and the old "open the flaps after it rained" trick..and soak the newbies...we had such a blast....p.s. Marc...I remember you getting mad when iI sent you to the seat shop for cross training...will you ever forgive me?

By Kevin Hurtle / Updated 2003
Stories of Det.s how about stealing the group flag in Iwakuni in the middle of the day, or the infamous toga party that put everyone on base restriction or legal hold, or the barbequed ducks at Shaw Airforce Base or the stolen type writers for another det. to Shaw, they had no sense of humor. How about the powerplant Lcpl that passed out drunk on the base C.O.'s porch and got caught. There are so many stories you could fill up 3 more websites.

By Paul Cason / Updated 2003
I transfered from 2/7 to P-3 around 85. When I arrived at Millington for school, I was quite shocked. I will explain. Being in the grunts for a few years, you can imagine the culture shock transfering from an infantry division to the airwing. Unless you were prior infantry its really hard to understand the change. Anyway, upon arriving to my first school, the first and formost thing on my mind was checking out my M-16 to see what kind of shape it was in. I got the strangest look from people when I asked where the armory was at. Also seeing Marines in... well less than what I would consider proper haircuts and less than properly starched uniforms well it all seemed like a different world. Needless to say, I got used to it and really became attached to P-3 and the great Marines that I had the pleasure to work with.

By Marc "Devil Dog Of The Web" Iseli / Updated 2003
If there’s one story that still makes me laugh, it’s from Det-Charlie, back when we were stuck on the USS Midway. Cpl. Fred Wingo had the luck of a boot with two left boots. Every time he came back from shore leave, the dice gods rolled snake eyes, which meant he got the full strip search treatment for contraband. We thought it was hilarious, but Fred was less amused. Anyway, one time when the Midway was tied up, Fred and Cpl Melthrater decided to rent jet skis and do laps around the ship like they were trying out for the Daytona 500. Last I heard, they were deep in the bowels of the ship, spitshing the Admiral’s fine silverware. Oorah Marines!

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