What is FOD?
by Master Sergeant Frank Merchant,
Whiteman AFB
So what is Foreign Object Damage and what can it do? What does FOD mean to a pilot and crew?
It may be ice, birds, tools or hardware, sucked into a turbofan. Sometimes “acts of God” (ice and birds) but all too often FOD is an act of man.
An aircraft frightfully out of control, its occupants feel their hearts in their throats. The pilot struggles desperately to wrestle control, as the plane goes down in a billow of smoke.
Or maybe a sharp metal object on the runway, like a predator silently awaiting its prey. A tire blows out on takeoff or landing as the aircraft tragically begins to stray.
Or flight controls jammed by a foreign object as the aircraft’s nose will only point down. The pilot completely helpless, as his aircraft heads straight for the ground.
A pilot’s ejection seat mechanism, fouled with something that doesn’t belong.
To his horror he finds no escape, from a doomed flight gone terribly wrong.Maybe because of a technician’s negligence family and friends are left to grieve and wail. A sad tragedy that could have been prevented as a young technician faces the prospect of jail.
So be vigilant with aircraft inspections and be vigilant with hardware and tool checks too. Remember,
“Integrity First, Service Before self, and Excellence in All that We Do”.
REMEMBER
by Master Sergeant Frank Merchant,
Whiteman AFBRemember the oath that you took when you raised your right hand.
Beneath stars and stripes you swore your allegiance for the defense of the homeland.In Air Force Blues or BDUs or even in civilian dress.
No such thing as an off-duty Airman; always representing America’s best.Remember the pilot who shook your hand and thanked you for your part in readying his (or her) jet.
You were filled with pride, on you he relied, as he thundered into the sky ready to face any threat.Technical Orders, checklists and aircraft forms, a true aircraft maintainer’s unbroken law.
Professional men and women with keen attention for detail, never too proud to abide by it all.Meticulous inspectors checking panels and cowlings and everything else before an aircraft is aloft.
Fully mission capable, all inspections complied with so that nothing foreign gets in and nothing falls off.Never too tired to count every tool and to account for all items before going home.
Confidently self-reliant that you’ve done all that you could for safety of flight when they’re all on their own.Each individual relied upon by so many, as we rely on each other and in GOD we trust.
Launching out jets for the defense of a whole nation, engines roaring with pure FOD-free thrust.
The Morning FOD-Walk
by Master Sergeant Frank Merchant,
Whiteman AFBThe morning FOD-walk, a time-honored tradition controlling the threat of foreign objects to all flying operations.
The aircraft maintainer’s ritual, a moment of parity between the ranks, all making collective effort to ensure safe aircraft generations.An inevitable feeling of affinity with fellow maintainers, civilians, Airmen, Soldiers, Sailors and Marines.
Flight-line ramps or aircraft carriers, when the call goes out for FOD-walk, we all proudly know what it means.Invaluable warriors against FOD, our first lines of defense before engines fire-up and before the planes begin to roll.
The troops assembled in ranks, on a mission to search and eliminate, determined to prevent FOD from exacting its costly toll.FOD-walkers out in force, searching every crevice and every corner, no stone left unturned, nay, no stone left unpicked up.
Never deterred by the heat or by the cold, looking forward to another power day, which no foreign objects will interrupt.Learned from the beginning, inscribed in our training-FOD is everyone’s responsibility, it’s not just the talk.
Hats off to those exemplars amongst supervisors, chiefs and officers, never too proud to be a FOD-walker, for proudly they walk.
The Night Before Take off
by Master Sergeant Frank Merchant,
Whiteman AFBIt was the night before take off, when all through the docks,
Not a FOD write-up to be found, not even on the chocks,
The Remove-Before-Flight streamers were hung from the aircraft with care,
In hopes that those metal birds would take safely to the air.
The aircrews were resting, and how eager they seemed,
While imagery of kicking down doors and killing targets paraded in their dreams,
Jets guarded by security-forces with a clip-load of caps,
Wide-awake while everyone snoozed, for them not even a nap.
When out on the ramp there arose such a roar,
Nocturnal aircraft maintainers, testing engine number four,
Well pleased with that noise of freedom, they shut down the aircraft,
And they were sure to cover the engines, front-end and aft.
The moon on Snap-on tools shinning brightly in the night,
Gave the luster of polished silver as they fastened panels tight.
Then an unexpected pause, following the night’s engine run,
An empty space in the toolbox after all the maintenance was done,
At once, they ceased all activity and they searched all around,
Tirelessly they searched until the missing tool was found.
Pushed by four powerful turbofans, those mighty birds of combat fame,
And the air traffic control tower called them by name:
“Now, Spirit of America! Now, Spirit of Alaska! Now Spirit of California and Spirit of Texas!
On, Spirit of Hawaii! On Spirit Mississippi! On Spirit of Missouri and Spirit of Kansas!
Embracing the sky! Defying gravity’s law!
Now fly away! Fly away! Fly away all!”
Like airborne skyscrapers unseen and unheard,
Skyscrapers that fight back, on the president’s word,
So on to their destination the B-2s they flew,
All loaded down with bombs and a few JDAMs too.
And then, as if in a twinkling, on the other side of the world,
Freedom for the oppressed and Stars and Stripes are unfurled,
As I turned on the TV and tuned to CNN,
Our soldiers were on the ground where the enemy had been.
“Let not hatred of any people seduce you to act unjustly” so it is inscribed in the Holy Qur’an,
A great world religion of more than a billion people, betrayed by hypocrites as in the Taliban.
Vanquished now the tyrants who made education for girls forbidden!
Liberation for the women who were beaten and kept hidden!
Retribution for those who made innocence the target of their hateful teaching!
The sword of American airpower wielded with global reaching!
And the aircraft maintainers had performed exceptionally well,
And the only Foreign Objects were the munitions that fell,
For many long hours the engines had burned,
Inhaling nothing but air for the turbines that turned.
Grueling long missions for those two-man teams,
And they dined on small pleasures of MRE cuisine,
Heroes in the air flying those black jets to which they were bound,
Launched out by a team of professionals, heroes on the ground.
Triumphant war birds arriving back in their home region,
Soon they would land to a welcoming legion,
Rolled up hay on rolling hills, a pleasant view from the aircraft they gleamed,
And the control tower says: you’re clear to land, bring it in on runway nineteen.
Entertained by the sensation of having the earth beneath their feet,
And surely Missouri air never smelled so sweet.
From the aircraft into a truck the crew stepped, and to the driver gave a whistle,
And away they all rode like Yosemite Sam packing pistols.
“Peace Is Our Profession” they proclaimed as they drove out of sight,
“Let Freedom Ring, for love of country we fight!”
