Fifty Cub Scouts and a Cobra

By an anonymous USAF Brat

In 1965, PACAF (Pacific Air Forces) decided that it would be a good idea to set up a theater-specific survival school for U.S. and friendly air forces operating in theater. With the increasing commitment to MACV and the improving NVA air defenses, losing aircraft and having highly trained and thus very expensive aircrews E&Eing through the jungle became a concern. And thus, the Jungle Survival School at Clark AFB, Philippines, was born.

Jungle Survival would open on certain Saturdays so families could visit and look at the various wildlife and creepy crawlies safely behind glass in the closest thing we had to a zoo. On occasion, they would feed the 25-foot python “Charlie” a small piglet. They had the skins of a larger python thought to be a 30-footer named “Oscar,” but were never able to catch it up on Lily Hill. There were cobras, bamboo vipers, lizards of various sorts, monkeys and gibbon apes (called Hoot apes for the distinctive hoot they would make when they got excited).

Pilots reported having been down in the trees under canopy and surrounded by a pack of these apes hooting and causing a ruckus. Quite frightening, especially when you consider the noise that attracts unfriendly people to your position.

So, one bright Saturday morning, my Cub Scout pack had a Webelos promotion. You were initiated into the Webelos den by being flipped and held upside down by the rest of the den while the den leader painted an “M” in red lipstick on your forehead. You wore it the rest of the day and thus, after you memorized the den chant, were part of the Webelos. For reasons lost to memory, the plan was to do the Webelos initiation and then take the pack on a tour of Jungle Survival. There was some entertainment when several dads had to get involved in flipping my rather corpulent behind upside down so I didn’t get dropped on my head, but I survived.

After those festivities ended, we moved toward the entrance of Jungle Survival and were met by one of the instructors. This individual was a sight to behold. Had he not had “U.S. Air Force” on the left chest of his green ripstop, slant-pocket fatigues, you’d have thought he was straight from the Mike Force out of Nha Trang or perhaps one of the SOG teams from CCN.

Sharp jungle fatigues with arms smartly cuffed in 2-inch folds terminating at the lower end of the bicep, brass ring on the wrist, full LBE with combat knife affixed in its sheath to the left shoulder strap, pommel downward, with the sheath secured by 100-mph tape in OD green. Two canteens, two full mag pouches on either side of his body, field-personalized med kit, rope with carabiner, pants bloused into jungle boots, complete with a black beret, dark aviator sunglasses and a full, smartly trimmed mustache just inside of regs. The only thing missing was a rifle or carbine. Knowing the look, he’d probably have preferred a MAT-49.

So we begin the tour and work our way through the lizard area with all the Cub Scouts clamoring around the glass and wood cages to see these things. Dads are rather bored and mommies are either nonchalant or very apprehensive around these things. No big deal. Then we move over to the snake section and begin to go through the nonvenomous and onto the venomous section.

The instructor introduces us to a bamboo viper and cautions us to watch out when playing in bamboo, as these little snakes look like vines wrapped around the bamboo but are very venomous. So now, to our adolescent minds, things are getting interesting. He then proceeds to show us the king cobras. Now, cobras were not unusual at Clark AFB. When the monsoons came, the cobras would come out of the jungle, down the mountains near the base and come looking for a dry spot. There had been a recent live capture, which took three Jungle Survival instructors more than 30 minutes to effect in a field in back of the bank on base. The snake was having none of it and would charge the instructors when they got close.

I mean, Dad brought home a baby cobra he found sunning itself out by the generators at the comm site at Dau. Mom transferred it to a Mason jar from the coffee can he brought it home in (after dropping it in the sink) and tapped on the glass. The little guy stood up and flared its hood. Off he went to Jungle Survival. So we knew they were around.

Then he drops the bomb. He begins by saying, “Now, a cobra is not like a rattlesnake, which strikes out from a coiled position, expanding like an accordion.”

OK…

“The cobra will strike from a raised position in a downward motion when it attempts to strike.”

And?…

“So should you encounter a cobra in your travels on base, you can wait for it to strike and then sidestep and step on its head to crush the skull and kill the snake…”

Without a minute’s pause, about 50 small boys immediately began practicing their sidestep maneuvers and jumping back on the imaginary snake’s head.

As you can imagine, general bedlam ensued and the tour was ended rather quickly after that. For the next several den and pack meetings, we were told in no uncertain terms to leave snakes alone and, if we saw one, to clear the area immediately and go tell an adult.

I wonder if that guy ever got promoted?

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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.