Our job – the 400 "City of Toronto" Air Reserve squadron, yeah, it's a mouth full – was to support ground operations. I did that for almost five years and loved it.
Our main job was to offer aerial support for offensive maneuvers or help in defense engagements, whatever the situation called for really. We would usually show up, light up the Veech, then bug out when their air support showed up. (Laughs.) Toward the beginning, when there were still a lot of Veech interceptors to contend with, we were grounded, but little by little, their air support deteriorated, and we came out to play.
Like I said, I loved it. I got to be part of history, to make a difference, whether providing air support or search and rescue. The RCAF never put too many of the helicopters together at one time. We were sent out piecemeal, so if the Veech did catch up to us, our losses wouldn't be crippling. I think after the battles of L.A. and D.C., the brass was scared of mass air battles. They weren't the only ones. We had no desire to be part of that confusion.
Anyway, my Griffon, which is just a modern, souped-up Huey, was kept at a farm. (He laughs.) Funny, right? Me, my partner, our ground crew, and our bird stayed in an old barn. At night, we rolled it inside to keep it hidden and safe. Again, forced dispersal. It wasn't too bad. Actually, the ground crew became like my family. We would fly a mission, come back, and barbecue what food we found scavenging, then we relaxed and told stories or played cards. Good times.
I know the war was horrible beyond words for so many people, but it was exciting for me. Don't get me wrong... I... I lost a sister. Her whole family was gone in an instant. It's just that... I was alive and living in the moment like I never have before or since. I know it might sound strange, but I miss it. I miss it a lot.
What did you do after the war?
As you can see (He holds out his hands and turns around slowly.), I'm the Brunson Grocery assistant manager. (Laughs.) I fought until the end of the war, then the government kept me on for another two years after that, doing rescue work and helping the locals fight some of the small tyrants that popped up everywhere. Then, little by little, we were replaced by the new shuttles. Helicopters became obsolete.
The new shuttles our benevolent friends traded us took me right out of a job. I mean, they were safer, faster, and ultimately cheaper. The only reason I was able to keep my job for two years after the war was because no nation could buy many of them. But eventually, they replaced me. Come to find out, the shuttles they sold us were almost obsolete to the Jhi, but to us, they were revolutionary.
The TSC took pilots, but they only took the absolute best and most experienced, and even those guys will be getting released after the new TSC recruits come up.
Then I was out and didn't have a job. The economy was a disaster, just beginning to get back on its feet. Nobody had work, and I had no skills other than operating an outdated machine. I went from being a badass helicopter pilot to nothing. It sucked.
Did you try to become a commercial shuttle pilot?
Calling them pilots is a stretch. Ok, that's not fair (Smiles.), but they are straightforward to fly. I mean, the technology does most of it for you. But why didn't I? I would have loved to, and I did try, but they didn't need me. There weren't that many of them in the beginning, and the ones they did get went to the hotshot jet pilots, which is understandable.
We lost a lot of pilots in the war, but there were a lot of pilots out there still. Think about this. 75% of all commercial pilots, from American Airlines to Fed Ex, became military pilots. Then, with the rise of shuttles, those pilots got laid off, or the company they were working for simply kept them as shuttle pilots. The rest of the laid-off pilots were all looking for a job. Now, here I was, a helicopter pilot waving my hand in the air saying, "Pick me, pick me." Never going to happen, and I knew that. I still tried, mind you, but I was prepared for the result.
So, there I was, recently married with a kid on the way, and I couldn't get a job. Veterans assistance? There was none, nor any type of welfare. Things like that disappeared with the Veech. People did whatever they could to survive, as did I. I took a lot of small jobs—mover, cleaner, farmer, whatever I could get.
A friend, an old university roommate, told me he'd give me a job if I moved to London. So I packed my family and moved them here. I've been at the supermarket ever since. It's not a bad job. It's not a piloting job by any means, but it's not bad.
I get angry sometimes, you know, thinking about all I did, and this is the thanks I get, but that's just me being selfish. People lost their whole families, literally everything. So, I have to stock cans—so what. I get to see my wife and kids every day, and they're well-fed.
You know, helicopter pilots aren't the only jo b that disappeared because of the new technology. There's a doctor that works here. He works at a cash register. Can you believe that? That guy went from making a ton of money pre-invasion to making minimum wage. Sucks for him, but it's nice having full medical now. Of course, lawyers didn't lose their jobs. Those guys are like cockroaches.
Jonathon Meeks
Summerset, Kentucky
Jonathon sees me, gives a nod, and, with
