O’club at NAS Sigonella
This event happened during the 1966-67 deployment of USS Shangri-La (CVA-38) to the Mediterranean Sea. I’d been an F-8 pilot in VF-13 for three years, and it was my third deployment. I was “salty”—Navy talk for someone who has been there.
Our skipper (squadron commanding officer) was Commander “Stolly” Stollenwerck. Everyone liked and appreciated him. He was calm and conservative… usually. The ship was scheduled to be in port in Naples for two weeks, and Stolly arranged for the squadron to fly off to Naval Air Station (NAS) Sigonella. It was only 250 miles from Naples and would give us the chance for some gunnery practice. Plus, we would be off the ship—a welcome break. We flew to Sigonella and went directly to the Officers’ Club (O’club).
A patrol squadron was completing a one-month deployment and going back to the States. As each plane would take off, it would fly over the O’club at about 2,000 feet, gently waggle its wings, and proceed on. A nice gesture, I guess, but I don’t have to tell you what we thought of it.
I have no idea why or what, but something got into Stolly’s head. All of a sudden, he stood up and pointed at John Baehr, Dick Schaffert, and me. “You, you, and you come with me!” We did, but we were completely bewildered. He drove us to the flight line, where four planes were being made ready. “Take off, join me in a diamond.” We did. Somehow, I ended up in the slot, Baehr on the left wing, and Schaffert on the right.
Super-low F-8 Crusader Fly-by
We didn’t get very high, and soon we were descending. From the slot, it’s hard to tell what’s going on, but I knew we were low and fast, maybe 400-500 knots. Schaffert comes out with, “I don’t think this is a good idea.” Stolly answers, “Hang in there, Dick.” I’m roaring and having a good time. I’m pretty busy trying to stay in formation, as we are really bouncing.
I glance out of my front windscreen and see the O’club straight ahead and about level. We climb up a touch, for which I am very grateful, as I am the low man in the formation. We roar over the club, and Stolly tells us to break up and return to base, which we did. As we land, the tower says, “Would the flight leader please contact the duty officer as soon as possible?”
I’m thinking Stolly is in deep yogurt. What I didn’t know was that the base skipper was Captain Donor (callsign “Blood”), a former skipper of VF-13. We never heard another word about the fly-by.
