How Clear is Your Lens?

I’m going to share an event that happened to me in the military and then at the end, share my take on what happened. I’m also not going to sanitize the unit because it’s very pertinent to the story. Just keep in mind that it was a long time ago and it was my favorite assignment. I have a great fondness to this day for all of them.

It was the summer of 1989 and we had moved to Virginia for a new civilian job. This meant a transfer of my ANG [Air National Guard] military affiliation from Colorado to Virginia. That part wasn’t difficult since I’m an aircraft Crew Chief and both States were operating A-7D Corsair IIs.

At the time, the 192^nd Fighter Wing was based out of Byrd Field which was in a corner of the Richmond International Airport. Now for those of you who skipped history, Richmond was the Capitol of the South during the Civil War. And one thing I noticed when I checked in was that the 192^nd had a much higher population of African Americans than any of my previous units, including Active Duty. Additionally, I had grown up in parts of the country that didn’t have large percentages of African Americans within the community.

Now before you start calling me a racist let me explain. This is no different than a guy getting invited to a party and noticing that all the other attendees are women. And even though I don’t need to defend myself let me just say that I grew up with people of all races, creeds, and colors and had many of them as best friends and hold to that philosophy even into adulthood. And I served for six years as a minister in a Black inner-city church. My grandmother was born in Japan and worked for the American Civic Society which helped people to immigrate and gain U.S. citizenship, and I got to see many swearing-in ceremonies. I hate the fact that we live in a time and society where we have to proactively defend ourselves from being called racist when discussing race-related issues. So, on to the story.

On one of my first days there, I was assigned to a Crew Chief to learn the ropes as to how the 192^nd did things operationally on the flightline. And I’m sure it was the unit’s way of making sure that I knew what I was doing. A great guy, he showed me the ropes, was very friendly and welcoming. So far so good. Then he mentioned it was getting close to lunchtime. Since I was assigned to him, I just assumed that I’d tag along to the Chow Hall and mentioned as much. His reaction threw me off because he didn’t seem thrilled with the idea. It made him visibly uncomfortable, but he quietly agreed. We walked in silence to the Chow Hall, signed in, and got our food. We walked over to the table where all his friends were, and they all immediately stopped talking. That was an incredibly uncomfortable moment. Oh, did I mention that he and all his friends at the table were Black? Nobody said hi, nobody acknowledged me, and nobody talked. I wolfed down my food and excused myself to go use the latrine. As I walked away the table burst into conversation.

Now here is where the “How Clear is Your Lens?” question comes into play. What do you think was going on? Do you think there was racism on the part of the Black guys against a White guy? At first blush, it might seem that way and I was frankly confused about the whole interaction. After chow, my trainer met back up with me at the jet and everything was fine. Eventually, I made friends to go to chow with.   

So, let’s add a few other details. In the following months and years, I worked with all those guys at the table, and they were always professional and helpful. They never led me to believe that they had anything against me. Yes, some even became friends.

Another nuance is that I never heard any sort of racist slur from anyone during my whole five years in that unit. Now maybe it sometimes happened, but I believe it would have been the exception not the rule.

Of particular interest is that at the time, the unit emblem was an eagle carrying bombs on a field of the Confederate Battle Flag. Now please keep in mind, this is around 1991 and not the current era of cancel culture/history. The Governor at the time was Doug Wilder and he happened to be Black. Being Governor also meant that he was the top boss of the National Guard. One of the local liberal independent newspapers decided that the emblem was a sign of slavery and offensive to the African American members of the unit. They campaigned Governor Wilder to direct the unit to get rid of it.

I was a Staff Sergeant at the time and a real nobody in the unit, but I decided to ask as many of the African American members of the unit if they found the unit emblem to be offensive. Their reactions took me aback because they were so visceral. To a person, they were angry that the newspaper was pushing the change. They saw the unit emblem as a symbol of the unit’s heritage as a military organization representing the state of Virginia, the state they loved.

There wasn’t one person who saw our emblem as something representing slavery and racism. One guy said, “It’s just not the same thing as a redneck with a confederate flag tied to the back of his pickup, blasting down the road screaming, “The South will rise again!” We had a good laugh about that, but I understood his point. Everyone was completely open and honest with me, and nobody was standoffish.

This brings us back to the chow hall incident. What lens did I choose to view it through? Ultimately, I decided that they were a very close bunch of friends who spent their lunches together as a group, and outsiders just negatively impacted the dynamic. I’ve seen it happen with groups I’ve been a part of before, and I’m sure you have too. Perhaps the takeaway should be to try to make unwitting newcomers not feel uncomfortable as they build bonds with others in the unit or organization.

Was racism going on? I don’t believe so, and I choose to think the best of people. But if it was racism – well that was a long, long time ago and the past is the past.

Oh, and one last thing. My wife was a military brat, and when she was an adolescent, her parents took her to the base hospital because she was hemorrhaging. The doc took one look at her and put out a base-wide emergency message that a blood transfusion donor was urgently needed. A young E-3 was the first to volunteer. He saved her life and I’m forever grateful to him, as are our four kids, and eight grandkids. Oh, he was African American. Thanks, buddy – I wish I knew who you are/were. I hope you are having a great life!

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Dave Chamberlin served 38 years in the USAF and Air National Guard as an aircraft crew chief, where he retired as a CMSgt. He has held a wide variety of technical, instructor, consultant, and leadership positions in his more than 40 years of civilian and military aviation experience. Dave holds an FAA Airframe and Powerplant license from the FAA, as well as a Master’s degree in Aeronautical Science. He currently runs his own consulting and training company and has written for numerous trade publications.

His true passion is exploring and writing about issues facing the military, and in particular, aircraft maintenance personnel.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.