The carrot and stick approach was clearly what local commanders and higher headquarters employed to motivate, and/or intimidate, SAC flight crews to perform well. The carrots were real and highly sought after. A system of instant or "spot" promotions was dangled in front of bomber crews. Back then there were B-47's, B-52's and a few lingering B-36's crewed by men who worked hard to be the best.
An annual bombing competition brought together the best of the best to test their mettle against each other and the challenges of difficult targets. Flight crews from bombardment wings across the country were chosen to represent their organizations, and their wing commanders. Being chosen to represent your wing was an honor and a chance at special recognition. It also presented an opportunity to garner a "spot" promotion, or even two as did happen.
So it was not surprising that my own flight crew was in the thick of the competitive efforts. And we were doing exceedingly well too. Our young radar navigator was hot as a pistol for two running calendar quarters. He was the best of the lot, with bomb scores head and shoulders above all the rest of the 45 crews in the wing.
And our equally young navigator carried his share of the load admirably as well, He was consistently in the top one or two in terms of on-time arrivals and meeting difficult requirements with the fewest errors. Those two on the lower deck of our new B-52D's were considered a "shoe-in" to be selected as representatives of our wing.
The brass in headquarters had a dilemma though. As impressed as they were with the performance of our crew, especially that young radar bombardier, they couldn't bring themselves to designate us as the chosen ones. The problem? Well, our crew had never been to a bombing competition, never demonstrated that they could stand the pressure of competing against the best of all other bomb wings.
How could the wing commander stake his reputation, and possible future promotion to general, on an unproven crew. It didn't matter that we were the best of all in our wing, and had been so by a wide margin for six month and after dozens of flights. What mattered to the commander was choosing a good crew that had been to a previous competition and endured the pressure.
Our radar navigator was livid upon learning the decision of the headquarters types. And those timid souls, more concerned with protecting the reputation of the commander than giving our wing a genuine chance to win it all at the "Bomb Comp" declared that only those with prior competition experience could be considered.
They couldn't, or wouldn't, answer the burning question of how a crew gets Bomb Comp experience without being selected to go to one. Their attitude was absolutely frustrating to our high-performing young radar navigator.
In fact, when it was officially announced that an older crew, but not a better performing one, would go to the Bomb Comp to represent the wing, that proved to be the last straw. Our angry, frustrated and wholly dismayed radar man decided he'd had it. He would resign his commission and get out of the Air Force.
But saying it and doing it were two different things. He couldn't resign and get out because of the system, the system which said he had incurred a two-year service commitment by going through the upgrade program to fly in B-52's. Not only wouldn't the system let him show his stuff and compete against the best of the best, it wouldn't even let him get out of the Air Force.
But so determined was that young man that he did come up with a way. He went to the medics and declared a debilitating "fear of flying". That would cause the medics to proclaim him unfit for crew duty, and thus of little use to the Air Force. And that's exactly what he did and what caused the loss to the Air Force of an outstanding, highly capable radar navigator and officer.
Ah yes, the system and the "old boy" network which couldn't, or wouldn't, take the chance on a hotly performing young man. The operative word was "young". It's a darn shame, but that's the way it was in 1958.